


Let Me Sell You The Dream

by catisacat



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, General corporate scumbaggery, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-03-22 13:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 46,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13764882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catisacat/pseuds/catisacat
Summary: "His name’s Richard Trager and he’s your problem now.”Jeremy Blaire doesn't even make it through the doors of Mount Massive before being saddled with a responsibility not in his job description.





	1. Biggest Asset, Biggest Liability

**Author's Note:**

> This is directly going to contradict literally everything in the Murkoff Accounts except Trager's ugly 80's preppy clothes and cocaine use because the comics are dumb and I don't consider almost anything canon from them.
> 
> For reference I also designed my own pre-engine Trager right here: [LINK](http://catisacat.tumblr.com/post/171109533592/i-reject-everything-about-the-murkoff-account)

Jeremy Blaire was no stranger to dressing nice and trying to ensure business deals go over well but this time it felt like so much more was at stake.

Looking around at the benefit gala, littered with potential targets, he didn’t even know where to start. Was he supposed to only focus on big targets now? Just get as many as possible? Really wasn’t helping that he didn’t know a goddamn thing about what was going on at his new workplace.

Regardless of his current lack of knowledge, he knew a lifetime of sucking up and backstabbing has landed him this just-shy-of-perfect job. Even though he has yet to set foot personally in the facility he’d been officially promoted to second in command at Mount Massive, a mental hospital with a side of unethical, inhumane experimentation.

But Blaire didn’t care about that. All he cares about is tricking these rich old bastards and hags into handing over their life savings “to help the less fortunate, the forgotten souls whose minds are-” Ah, fuck it, blah blah blah. Give us your money to help these loonies, who we are definitely not using like overgrown lab rats, have a better life. Also we’re not doing that last thing. Just the middle thing we said we aren’t doing.

Not to mention this benefit gala was definitely to test him and the small group of other employees Murkoff was promoting to the Mount Massive project. Blaire knew that should be fail this test, any and every one of them would be ready to take his place.

C’mon, Blaire, keep that in mind. Gotta get going. Just pick someone big and go after them like a pitbull with a porkchop.

That’s when he spots him. Peter Grant. Super fucking old, super fucking rich, just shy of dementia ridden. Soft spot for gushy shit like “helping the less fortunate.” Hanging out by himself, off to the side. A perfect target in perfect conditions.

Confident strides started closing the gap between them but a sudden, firm grasp on his shoulder stopped him.

Looking over, he found himself looking at the only person higher ranked than himself at Mount Massive. Clint Harrison. Major asshole, always working an angle. I mean, so was he, but this douchebag was working an angle AGAINST him.

“How’s the party suiting you, Blaire?” the man smiled at him without an ounce of happiness in his eyes, “Nice mansion, at least. Maybe get a real party going after these retirement home rejects clear out.”

Looking around, Blaire had to admit the borrowed mansion was gorgeous. Expensive paintings and vases decorated it, looking like a more reasonable Versailles. But the idea of getting wasted with this asshole was deeply unappealing to him.

Regardless he twisted his own face into an equally ingenuine smile, “Be careful, don’t want to lose the deposit they made us take out on this place.”

A belly laugh that still managed to sound empty, Harrison shaking his head, “No, we sure as hell don’t. Speaking of concerns about losing that deposit… got a bit of a special job for you. Real important.”

Defeatedly, Blaire let the man lead him away from the rich old philanthropist. Into another one of the many adjacent rooms they had rented out. This room was no less elegant nor less populated. Plenty of new people wandering around. None that Blaire recognized.

But his boss clearly has a certain one in mind. While still at a distance Clint pointed a man out, “You see that guy here?”

Blaire certainly did. Harrison didn’t even need to specify who he meant. It was obvious.

The man looked to be around his own age, maybe slightly older. Despite that, a surprising amount of his long, brown ponytail was mixed with grey. Very tall, very thin, he looked like a coat hanger decided it wanted to be a human. Hanging off him were the tackiest, most outdated clothes Blaire had ever seen. 80’s preppy? Really? Not to mention it most of the thing was bright shades of pink, punctuated by a purple sweater tied around his neck. Circular purple glasses rested on top of his head.

Right now, the man was sitting on a small couch and practically curled around a very elderly woman who Blaire recognized as one of the most famous philanthropists still alive. Edith Anders.

Blaire finally answered Harrison’s question, “The guy with the ponytail?”

“Yeah, him. His name’s Richard Trager and he’s your problem now.”

His head jerked up at that, “What?”

“Trager is our biggest asset AND our biggest liability. I can assure you, right there, right now, he is the securing an obscene amount of money from that old hag. More than all the other donations put together.”

“Then what’s the liability?” Blaire warily asked.

“There is a very strong chance that if he’s left to his own devices that he’ll single handedly destroy this gala,” Harrison said with a wary glare towards Trager, still seemingly unaware of being watched.

“You, uh, really need to give me a little more than that, Harrison. Paint me a picture here.”

“Drinking. Nudity. Yelling. A manic nightmare turned reality.”

“And what am I supposed to do about it?” Blaire crossed his arms, eyeballing both his boss and the oddball across the room.

“I don’t know but you’re not the first person to be Trager’s keeper and you probably won’t be the last. Figure it out and I wish you luck,” Harrison said, firmly patting Blaire’s back before walking away. Following him with his eyes, Blaire noted with irritance the man approaching Peter Grant. Glory hog.

Sighing heavily, Blaire decided he might as well try to make the best out of this situation.

As lowkey as he could, Blaire approached the man. Slinking up into within earshot he decided to eavesdrop in on Trager’s conversation with Edith.

“Let me sell you the dream,” he heard the man start to pitch, practically smothering the giggling old lady next to him as the martini in his hand tilted more and more dangerously close to spilling all over the expensive couch, “Mount Massive is going to be the pinnacle of innovation when it comes to developing new methods for mental healthcare.”

Edith looked ready to pull out her wallet, even as she asked, “Are you allowed to share any specifics, dear?”

“Unfortunately no, top secret,” Trager patted her arm with a wink, “But, and I know a young lady like yourself doesn’t have to worry about this yet, I know that hopefully some of our experiments will help with long term mental acuity. So if your mother’s starting to get up there or your grandmother-”

Giggling, Edith batted his shoulder, “You’re too much, Mr. Trager.”

“Just call me Rick, Edith, I like to think we’re close enough for a first name basis,” he continued through her delighted laughter, “But seriously, ongoing work to try and solve the issues of mental degradation involved with aging.”

Pinching one of his cheeks, she grinned, “Dear, you had my support a long time ago. I’ll make sure they know that you’re the one who won me over too. A sweet boy like you deserves the credit.”

“Thank you, Edith,” Trager said, patting her on the back as she hugged him, “You’re going to be doing a lot of good for a lot of disenfranchised people.”

Letting go, Edith shakily wrote on a piece of paper from her purse with a cheeky smile up at him, “And if you’ll let me be forward, Rick, I’ve got a granddaughter around your age…”

Allowing her to stick the piece of paper into his shirt pocket, patting it. He smiled, “Say no more, I’ll make sure to give her a call.”

Looking over his shoulder, Edith’s eyes popped open happily, “Oh! Miss Anderson! I didn’t know she was attending. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go say my hellos.”

“Of course, of course,” Trager nodded, helping push her up, “I’ll be somewhere doing something if you need me.”

Laughing, she trotted away. The second she left he immediately downed the rest of the martini in his hand and set the empty glass in a potted plant, eyes already greedily scanning the crowd for his next target. Whether that was another old person to bamboozle or more alcohol was questionable.

Either way, Blaire swooped in. If this was his responsibility, he sure as hell was going to make sure nothing bad happened on his watch.

Trager looked a bit surprised at his sudden appearance but he firmly shook the hand Blaire extended nonetheless as the man introduced himself, “Hey, I’m Jeremy Blaire. New second in command at Mount Massive. Relatively certain we’ll be working together real soon.”

He seemed to relax the second he realized he was talking to a new colleague instead of another rich bastard to con, a decidedly more smarmy smile gracing his face, “Yeah, I heard we were getting a whole bunch of newbies from Murkoff’s headquarters. Richard Trager, head of Business Development. My job is to lie to people and cut corners.”

“And exactly how much of what you told Miss Anders was bullshit?”

“Oh man, what wasn’t bullshit?” Trager laughed, fake happiness gone from his eyes and a leery joy gleaming there instead, “Don’t know what the fuck the experiments at ole Mount Massive are for but they sure as hell aren’t gonna help senile old bags continue to spit in the face of nature and extend their lives even further.”

It was amazing watching Trager devolve from ‘selling the dream’ to ‘smarmy coworker’ in what seemed like a heartbeat, to the point Blaire was almost impressed, “Next thing you’re gonna tell me is you don’t think she’s helping the disenfranchised and bettering the world.”

“Fuck no, hag’s giving us a metric shitton of money to stick more people in a nightmare machine and see what pops out the other side.”

“And the number for her granddaughter?”

He grinned even wider, “Gonna leave it in my shirt pocket, forget about it, then get pissed while I have to fish the shredded remains of it out of my washing machine in a week.”

“Not even going to go for the gold digging?” Blaire grinned, “Seems like that would be up your alley.”

Blaire watched as Trager roughly grabbed the arm of a passing waitress, almost making her drop her platter of drinks. Grabbing three martinis off it without giving her so much as a glance. Downing one like a goddamn shot, handing Blaire the second, holding onto the third, “Gold digging would imply I’m capable of being a functional human being for long periods of time, which I am not. I’m the drag racing of being charming. Short, efficient. Just when I absolutely need to be. No more, no less.”

“Dropped it practically the second I sat down,” Blaire raised an eyebrow along with the glass he’s been handed, “Don’t think impressing your new boss is worth it?”

“Eh, you’re gonna see the real me eventually anyways,” Trager replied with a shrug that once again threatened the contents of his glass, “Might as well get it out of the way. Also, I saw you talking to Harrison. Which means you’re the person they’ve assigned to make sure I don’t fuck anything up. How’s my report card lookin’, teach?”

Taken aback by his forwardness, Blaire stumbled, “I don’t know what-”

“Don’t act like I’m stupid, Blaire,” Trager nearly hissed at him, “I hate that.”

Nodding and shrugging, Blaire gave up, “So far I have no complaints. Got a big donation for Mount Massive, got me a drink.”

Immediately, Trager lightened back up, “Well, alright then. So far you’re the least shitty babysitter I’ve ever had. Are you gonna let me stay up late and watch the big boy shows too?”

“Hey, if it’ll piss off your parents, I’m in,” Blaire said, with a harsh nod towards Harrison.

“Oh, I like you,” Trager borderline crooned at him, “We’re going to be friends.”

“Nice to be on good terms with someone right off the bat,” Blaire nodded, taking another drink, “Haven’t even set foot in the place yet, to be honest. Don’t know how I’m supposed to be   
‘selling people the dream’ without an ounce of knowledge about the damned place.”

He watched Trager down the final martini in his hand before standing up and holding out a hand to him, “C’mon, I never know shit about what they’re doing either. Stick with me and I’ll teach you the delicate art of making doddering old people fork over all their money.”

As Blaire grabbed Trager’s hand and let him pull him up off the couch, he figured maybe Harrison was wrong. This guy didn’t seem so bad, even as he far too casually threw an arm around Blaire’s shoulder as they walked towards one of the unoccupied old women shuffling off by herself.

Distracted, he didn’t even notice as Trager started unraveling a bit as they chatted up the aging heiress. Never married, no kids. Absolute wealth of money to spend on “charity work.”

But even if he didn’t notice it was still happening. Repeatedly running his hand through his hair, gradually pulling more and more of it out of the ponytail. Slowly paying less and less attention to the photos of the old woman’s prized purebred racing greyhounds. Glasses moved down from on top of his head to see said photos better and just left there. His shirt was slowly heading towards being completely unbuttoned as he fiddled with it absentmindedly.

All Blaire focused on was getting that old lady to hand over a fat check and by god she did.

Ignorant of the fact Trager was essentially using him as a literal crutch, Blaire walked with him hanging onto his shoulders still as he joked, “Hey, don’t take this the wrong way but you’re the most manipulative and conniving person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m glad you’re a fan of my work,” Trager laugh, giving Blaire a squeeze, “But I’ve gotta powder my nose real quick. Come with me.”

The powershift was sudden, Blaire no longer leading a listless Trager but instead being roughly dragged towards a door he was pretty certain was both not the way to the bathroom nor a place they were supposed to go. He tried to laugh it off, “What, do we look like a couple of schoolgirls? What kind of grown adults go to the bathroom in pairs?”

Door cracked open, just enough for Trager to pull him through with an insufficient and frankly confusing answer, “Ain’t going to the bathroom.”

As it slammed behind them, Blaire was acutely aware of the fact they were definitely not in the rented wing of the mansion anymore. It appeared to be an abandoned storeroom or some sort of unused servant’s quarters.

Briefly disarmed by looking around, Blaire failed to notice exactly what it was that Trager was doing.

Pulling a couple things out of his pockets, back turned to Blaire. A hand mirror, a small bag.

By the time Blaire noticed what Trager was doing it was too late to stop it.

The sudden sound of snorting was what had grabbed Blaire’s attention back to his new friend. Trager immediately highlighting exactly what happened as he held up the rest of the bag of white powder with a slightly too wide smile, “You want a hit too, buddy?”


	2. Unstoppable Force vs Movable Object

“Fuck me,” Blaire swore under his breath, hand gripping his forehead tightly as he stared wide eyed at the bag of very clearly cocaine being offered to him.

He was going to throttle Harrison. Drinking? Hell, the old bastard definitely, definitely knew that wasn’t Trager’s problem. No one’s that fucking stupid that they’d think someone strung out on cocaine was a drunk. Could have fucking warned him at least.

All Blaire knew right now was that the deed was done, even though his head was pounding and screaming at him to undo it somehow. But Trager had already snorted the drugs, it’s not like he can reverse time or anything.

This is… just the situation he has to deal with right now. Great.

Not that he was going to be able to stop himself from being absolutely pissed.

“What the fuck, Trager?!” Blaire barely restrained himself from all out screaming at him as he shoved the bag away from himself, “Have you lost your damn mind? Do we need to have YOU committed at Mount Massive?”

Trager only laughed at that, tucking the cocaine away in his breast pocket with a pat, “It’s just a little bit, don’t be a prude.”

“A little bit of cocaine is a big issue,” Blaire pointed at the door they’d come from, “Jesus, we’ve got every rich philanthropist we could find out there not to mention a legion of our higher ups. What were you thinking?!”

“I can’t do my job if I’m not all there, can I?” Trager laughed, wholly unconcerned as he fixed his ponytail, “I was getting jittery out there and when I get jittery, I can’t focus.”

“And this is what ‘all there’ is to you?!” Blaire tried not to let panic set in. He was gonna fucking lose his job over this before he even sets foot inside of his place of work. That has to be some sort of world record of fucking up.

Trager just shrugged at that, “Yeah.”

Time to start bargaining with whatever higher power watchs over corporate douchebags. Grabbing Trager’s arm, he looked him dead in the eye, “Look, I need you to just lay low for the rest of the party. You’ve already gotten several huge donations, just… just sit in the corner and eat eclairs until the drugs wear off and you pass out.”

Pulling away, Trager made it very obvious he intended to head back into the party as he started untying his sweater from around his neck, “I do my best work like this, don’t get your panties in a twist. Now, unless you want to stay back here and jerk each other off, I’ve got work to do.”

The balled up sweater was shoved into the middle of his chest as Trager took a step towards the door. Other hand already on the next button to free, leaving the shirt almost all the way open.

Trager yelped as he was roughly grabbed from behind, laughing at the awkward position he was pulled back into, “What? You taking me up on that offer?”

It was quite the opposite though, Blaire restraining him as he rebuttoned the shirt all the way up before tying the sweater back on, “Look, both our jobs are on the line and if you get me fired… believe me, you don’t want to be the reason I got fired.”

The fact Trager was only laughing in return wasn’t a comfort, “We’re not going to get fired.”

“You better hope we-” Blaire started before sighing and forcing himself back down as he released the reclothed man, “Look, do it for me, alright? As a friend? Because prior to you doing hardcore drugs, I was having a good time. If you want any hope of us actually being friends, you’ll do this for me.”

Bingo. Immediately, Trager crossed his arms but the kicked puppy look on his face was evident, “Fine. I’ll try to restrain myself. But I’m not sitting there, I’ve still got a job to do.”

His hand reached up towards the sweater only to have his hand grabbed by Blaire again, “Don’t fuck us, Trager.”

God, Blaire could almost see the drugs kicking in as a wide, manic smile started cracking across Trager’s face, “Call me Rick. We’re friends, right?”

At that, he abruptly winked and quickly left the storage room. Back into the party.

\- - -

Despite Trager… er, Rick’s promise things were obviously not going to go as planned.

It did seem that, on some level, Rick was trying to restrain himself but was very, very obviously failing at that task. I mean, that’s what happens when you do hard drugs.

Right now, Rick had captured some slightly intimidated to scared old man. His spiel about Mount Massive very quickly going to hell after his standard first sentence of “let me sell you the dream.” The dream melting into a very confusing mess of a nightmare puddle on the ground. Facts forgotten, words crammed together and stumbled over.

Whenever one of the philanthropists managed to escape from his frantic clutches, Rick always seemed to find another to grab onto before Blaire could stop him.

Despite Blaire’s best efforts he wasn’t able to contain him any further. At the very best, for a while in the middle, he was able to get Rick to latch onto his arm and NOT immediately run off. But even that was limited.

At every turn, he could sense Harrison watching them with a disapproving glare. Clearly very unhappy with Blaire’s failed Rick-wrangling, hopefully not thinking of replacing him.

After Rick began getting a bit more frantic, causing people to actively run from him, Blaire tried something a little more physical. Getting an arm around Rick’s waist he forcibly started dragging him to the other room, “C’mon Rick, let’s get something for you to eat.”

For a second, the wide eyed look Rick gave the rest of the party made him worry he’d just squirm away but instead there was an arm across his shoulders as he laughed, “I’m not hungry.”

“Alright, how about this, I’M hungry,” Blaire lied, ignoring the fact he was far too stressed to eat anything right now, “And you know Harrison’s going to rip my head off if I’m not watching you, so come with me.”

He nearly buckled under Rick putting all his weight suddenly on him, batting his eyes with a dramatic gesture to himself, “Aw, Jer, if you want to spend more time with me you could have just said so.”

“Yeah, yeah, you figured it out, I love babysitting coked up borderline strangers. And don’t call me ‘Jer.’”

Rick only laughed at that, unperturbed by the jabs at him, “Alright, alright, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“No, you won’t,” Blaire shook his head with a sigh as he started dragging him out of the room.

\- - -

It was getting to the point where all eyes were on them, for good reason. Nothing weirder than watching a very flamboyantly dressed, very loud, very obviously on something man being hauled around by a very sober, very annoyed man.

Despite the more pressing issue being Rick hanging off him, more than anything Blaire blamed Harrison for this shit.

Managing to get Rick leaning up against a wall, Blaire tried to get him focused on eating but he was still insistently and loudly yelling at nearby old people. Sounding more like a serial killer cat caller then a businessman at this point. Still trapped in some cycle of trying to sell to people.

Before Blaire could even start handing hopefully tempting treats to Rick, he was grabbed roughly by the shoulder and whipped around. Eye to eye with the bastard who put him in this situation. Harrison.

“Do you call this being Trager’s keeper? Because, unless I’m mistaken, he’s on more than just martinis,” Harrison hissed at him, nodding towards Trager who was currently playing with a piece of a trapped old woman’s hair.

“Look, you dropped me into this with no warning,” Blaire gestured at Rick who was beginning to notice he wasn’t being hawked over, “You told me drinking and nudity. Didn’t tell me a damn thing about ‘hey, he might suddenly start doing hard drugs.’”

“It was implied,” he gritted his teeth, “What are you going to do about that?”

Harrison harshly gestured to Trager with his free hand, the man now knowing he was being talked about. Still gripping Blaire’s shoulder, painfully tightly.

“Look, I’ll… I’ll figure something out.”

“You’re on thin ice, Blaire. He hasn’t done anything irreparable so far. Fix this before he does.”

At that, Harrison released his death grip on Blaire and left to stare judgingly from a distance. Chatting up another potential benefactor with one eye following the two men.

Sighing heavily, Blaire tried not to look too annoyed as Rick approached him. Alienating Rick wasn’t going to do him any favors, especially if Harrison intended to keep him on Trager Watch for any duration of time after tonight.

But Rick was slightly more sober than he had been for the past ten minutes, looking almost annoyed himself, “Let’s get out of here. Walk around the courtyard a little. I’m feeling boxed in, you know?”

That was frankly the best thing Blaire had ever heard in his life, “Absolutely, let’s get you the hell out of here.”

\- - -

Blaire immediately felt better as they stepped into the crisp night air with Rick hanging off his arm.

Mercifully, the party had been on the ground floor, making it all too easy for the two of them to walk out into the moonlit courtyard. Wide, open, nobody around for Rick to make uncomfortable. Just a couple of men, expelled from a party.

Blaire hoped this was an acceptable way to deal with “still very much coked up Trager”. God, what was Monday going to be like? Was he going to walk into Mount Massive to just get immediately demoted?

Rick, seemingly, had no such thoughts in his head. But considering Blaire could feel Rick’s heart still going absolutely apeshit in his chest which was pressed against his arm, that was probably all the fucking cocaine.

Something else dawned on him. Rick had definitely stolen a bottle of vodka from the party. Honestly, he was mildly impressed that he’d managed to get it outside without anyone stopping him.

Might as well check on him, “You doing better now?”

“I’ve felt great this entire time, it’s you guys with the problem,” Rick scoffed, picking up the pace as he noticed something in the near distance.

“No, Rick, pretty sure the cocaine is the problem,” Blaire retorted, giving up and letting himself be dragged towards whatever Rick was focused on.

Not that it was hard to guess, considering there was an ample garden that seemed to occupy the majority of the courtyard. Somehow, Blaire doubted sober Rick would care much about flowers, high Rick seemed to be looking for anything remotely exciting.

Of course, he was correct, as they beelined right towards it. Now that he was out of the party, Blaire was the only source of focus for Rick other than the approaching plants, “You got a girlfriend, Jer? Wanna steal some flowers for her?”

Cringing in irritation at the nickname, Blaire shook his head, “No, not exactly a lot of women lurking around Murkoff and my hobbies aren’t exactly chick magnets either. Also, don’t call me Jer. Jeremy, if we’re going with first names.”

“Well, then that’s not gonna be changing anytime soon, Jer,” Rick continued, blatantly ignoring the last sentence, “Mount Massive has one, maybe two girls running around. Aside from, you know, the female patients. Know a lovely one though, a real catch. Likes to bite off face skin. Also killed and partially ate her husband so you know she’s single. Total wife material.”

He laughed very loudly at his own joke, thundering in the very empty courtyard. Delighted that Jeremy was laughing slightly despite himself.

Entering the garden, high bushes and flowers enveloped them. Had he been the sort of person to enjoy flowers, Jeremy would suppose this was a rather nice garden. Based on the fact he didn’t even recognize some flowers, they were probably rare. Or he was just ignorant. Could be both.

Vaguely impressively, Rick managed to get the vodka open one-handed before taking a huge swig. Offering it to Jeremy afterwards. Unlike the cocaine, this was a much more acceptable offer. Taking it, Rick grinned widely as Jeremy took a long drink of his own.

Patting his chest, the look he gave him was dripping smarm, “See? Now you’re having fun.”

“Glad to be out of that fucking party at least,” Jeremy grumbled, handing the bottle back to let Rick drink again, “I hate this type of shit. Dazzling old people instead of getting some actual work done.”

“Nose to the grindstone, I like that,” Rick laughed, leaning on him more heavily, “I’d rather be slashing budgets but, hey, there’s also a lot of free alcohol at these things.”

He wiggled the vodka bottle in his hand with another smile barely illuminated by the moonlight.

“Yeah, well, looks like cocaine isn’t your only vice,” Jeremy grumbled.

“Oh come on, Jer. I’m sure you’ve got something you do that’s not so great on your mind and/or body. We’ve all got our vices. You, my friend, strike me as a workaholic. Long nights, refusing to go home and all that comes with that.”

Jeremy raised his eyebrows with a shrug, supposing he didn’t really have a retort to that.

Rick just shaking him again, leering, “Hit the nail on the head, didn’t I?”

“Maybe,” Jeremy replied, taking the bottle back for a drink.

“See? We’ve all got somethi-” Rick started before stopping abruptly, nearly knocking Jeremy on his ass as he pulled him behind a rose bush. Shushing him as he went to ask what was happening, simply pointing at the debacle in front of them.

Pressed against Rick’s chest, Jeremy could barely see what was going on but seeing even a little made it obvious. He recognized the man, a very high ranking Murkoff executive, but not the woman, other than the uniform of the servers that she was wearing.

Rick looked like an amused child, deeply, creeply delighted by finding the lovers. However, Jeremy was a bit more concerned with not being seen.

At least it seemed like Rick had seen enough, letting Jeremy drag him further through the twisting maze of a garden until they were expelled out of another entrance. Seemingly on the opposite side, leading out towards a nearby lake which was almost not visible for the sheer number of trees covering it. Backed up against a forest on the other side as well. A couple of docks jutting out into the water.

Intrigued, Rick let go of Jeremy for the first time as he took a particularly long drink before handing him the leftovers. Finishing it off, Jeremy set it in the grass to follow Rick towards the water’s edge. Both of them disappearing completely from view as the trees engulfed them.

Whereas Jeremy thought flowers were ultimately stupid, he could appreciate a good moonlit night by a lake, trees engulfing the whole thing. Smiling slightly to himself, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Looking over to comment on it to Rick, he found the man had already successfully shed his sweater and shirt without his companion’s notice. Excitedly kicking off his shoes as he started unbuckling his belt.

Good, the drugs definitely haven’t worn off.

Immediately flustered, Jeremy’s voice echoed off the water, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

“Going swimming,” Rick calmly explained, pausing only to answer before whipping off the belt.

Jeremy just pointed back towards the garden and the rented mansion in the distance, “I ask you, for the second time today, are you fucking insane?! You do know essentially every single important person we work with is in there?!”

“Yeah and why would they leave their little party?” Rick answered, hands resting on the hem of his pants and tapping on his exposed stomach, “C’mon, Jer. Let loose a little, no one’s coming out this far and you can’t see in. Low risk, high reward.”

“And this supposed ‘high reward’ is?” Jeremy looked at him critically.

“A fun night with your best buddy, Richard Trager. You remember fun, right? That thing you had when you were a kid?”

“Yeah, fun is stripping with a stranger and jumping into a lake full of god knows what,” Jeremy growled.

“It is,” Rick said with a wink, Jeremy averting his eyes with a groan as the bright pink pants were dropped to the ground. A second noise indicating that, yeah, underwear were off too. A soft click as glasses were folded and set on the pile as well.

The next noise he heard was also felt as Rick jumped into the water, splashing enough to get the bottom of Jeremy’s slacks a bit wet.

Opening his eyes, Jeremy didn’t even know what to do about this. He had been abruptly put in charge of this man and so far all he’s done is do coke, freakout some old people, get naked and jump in a lake. Right now, he was treading water and beaming up at him, “Remove the oppressive shackles of pants, get in here!”

“If you think I’m going to do that you- HEY,” Jeremy started before jumping back as Rick aimed a huge splash at him.

“We’re friends, right? Nothing says friendship like a little no-stakes skinny dipping. No one’s coming, we’re all alone. Just have a little fun with me, Jer. Seriously.”

Maybe it was the half a bottle of vodka that was getting to him but Jeremy found himself, shockingly, actually considering it. Looking from Rick to the mansion in the distance, almost completely invisible due to the trees.

He was crazy. He was definitely going crazy. Sliding suit jacket off and starting a second, less pink pile of clothing. As he started stepping out of his shoes he did point accusingly at Rick though, “Turn around, don’t watch me strip.”

“Spoilsport,” Rick whined but complied, twisting himself around underwater to stare at the treeline in the distance.

As Jeremy loosened his tie, he felt like he was signing a deal with the devil himself.


	3. One Is The Loneliest Number

The pounding in his head was overwhelming, each harsh throb waking him up more and more.

Finally, his eyes burst open with a low noise of anguish as the hangover of the century sunk its claws further into Jeremy’s skull. 

Ignoring the pain, Jeremy looked around with wild eyed surprise at the fact he was very, very much not inside of his own tastefully decorated, minimalistic apartment. In fact, he completely didn’t recognize whose house he was at.

Neon lights glowed in the darkness, bright pink and purple searing into his eyes. Walls painted bright with loud 80’s patterns all over it. A couple chairs by the window, completely impractical looking. The lamp next to him, abstract.

Head hurting too much, he closed his eyes again and tried to remember last night.

The Murkoff party. Being forced to look after Richard Trager. The drugs. Call me Rick. The embarrassment. Rick deciding to leave. Getting drunk in the garden. Swimming naked with Rick. Getting dragged to a nearby bar. Getting drunker. Somehow Rick knew of a twenty-four hour karaoke bar. Of course he did. Stopping by a shitty fast food restaurant at approximately five in the morning. Hauling a nearly unconscious Rick into his gaudy apartment. Being talked into even more drinks from Rick’s personal stash.

He must have passed out then, after a night like that who could blame him?

Painfully and slowly, Jeremy managed to roll over and look at Rick who was lying on the other side of the bed. Just about to fall off the edge with his long hair out of its ponytail and lying around him in a mess.

For a terrifying second he thought Rick was completely naked, until realizing he’d at least been talked into keeping a horrible bright purple, tiger striped pair of manties on. For a second, even more terrifying second Jeremy considered what could have happened last night but ripping off the cover found himself almost comically overdressed for sleeping. Still wearing everything, right down to his belt and shoes. Instinctively, he kicked those off at least. Each hitting the ground with a dull thunk.

Looking over at Rick again, he noticed the man still wasn’t moving at all. Almost alarmingly so.

Nervously, Jeremy reached over and grabbed Rick’s should and gave him a pretty harsh shake, “Hey, Rick? You alive?”

No response. A pit dropped into his stomach and he shook Rick harder, “Rick?! Wake up!”

Sharp and sudden, Rick woke up. Jerking his head back and looking at Jeremy with a look of annoyance and anger through a veil of tangled hair, “What the hell, buddy? I was dead asleep.”

“After last night, I was worried you were just DEAD,” Jeremy retorted.

That seemed to placate Rick a bit, “Alright, that’s fair. Fun night, right?”

Rick didn’t wait for an answer, abruptly getting up and leaving the room and a very confused Jeremy. He returned with a couple glasses of water a minute later. Before Jeremy could reach out for one with a ‘thanks’, he watched Rick down the both of them. Jackass.

God, this was an awkward situation. Jeremy picked up his shoes, wondering why he’d even bothered to kick them off. Walking towards Rick who was leaning in the doorway, he was ready to call a cab and nurse this hangover at home, “Well, last night was, uh, fun but I’ve gotta get going.”

He stopped as Rick put out a long, thin arm across the doorway, “Aw, Jer? It’s a Saturday, c’mon, stay for a bit. We can watch a movie, order a pizza-”

Shaking his head, Jeremy gave him a look, “I think we did enough last night.”

Rick was still unmoving. Jeremy sized him up real quick. He had no concerns, Rick was taller than him but rail thin. If he needed to go, he could go. Forcibly. Really the only thing stopping him was the sad puppy look Rick was giving him.

With a heavy sigh, Jeremy ran a hand through his crumpled hair, “Fine, I’ll stay. But I need some water, something for this headache, and a shower.”

“Deal!” Rick chirped, “I’ll get you the water and a couple pills, shower’s over there. I think I’ve got some clothes you can wear in the back of my closet.”

Nodding, Jeremy wandered towards the bathroom. Wondering why the hell he was still giving into the demands of a madman.

\- - -

Fifteen minutes later, Jeremy walked back out with his towel around his waist. Almost surprised Rick wasn’t waiting for him there.

Instead, there were a few things placed on the side table and now-made bed for him. A glass of water, a couple pills, a folded up t-shirt and pajama pants. Notably, the clothing really didn’t look like it would fit Rick. Unless the man had at one point been a more average sized guy.

God, was he going crazy? Not only had he spent all night with this weirdo but now he was poised to spend the day with him too. At least the afternoon. Was he being held captive? He was mildly concerned he was being held captive.

Walking out, Jeremy looked around. The living room was decorated very similarly to the bedroom, all gaudy 80’s decor. Neon and animal print, at least the couch looked more comfortable than the chairs.

Rick was curled up on one end of it, wearing pajamas now at least. However, the kimono-like robe he was wearing only made Jeremy wonder the origins of his out-of-character pajamas more. Looking down at the shirt on his own chest, it advertised a metal band he doubted Rick would listen to.

“Oh good, it fits,” Rick piped up, wriggling a pizza place brochure at him, “Get over here and help me pick a pizza. Personally, I like sausage. You like sausage, Jer?”

“Sausage is fine but don’t get any other gross shit like pineapple or olives on it or I won’t eat it,” Jeremy replied, completely oblivious to the obvious double entendre and the sleazy smile on Rick’s face.

“Sausage party it is,” Rick cheerily grinned, “I’m getting bread twists too. You wanna pick out a movie while I make the call?”

He gestured to the cabinet under the TV to which Jeremy complied, feeling more and more like an idiot for deciding to stay. Perusing the almost exclusively 80’s movies. Dude was really stuck in the past, wasn’t he? At least it was a solid decade for movies. While Rick ordered the pizza in the background, Jeremy selected ‘Poltergeist.’

Sticking it in the DVD player and walking over to collapse on the couch next to Rick as he finished his call, Jeremy asked, “So, whose pajamas are these?”

He pulled at the borrowed t-shirt making Rick look away with a coy smile, “Old roommate left a bunch of his clothes here when he moved out.”

“Didn’t give any of them back?”

“We didn’t part on great terms,” Rick’s tone grew a bit irritated, turning on the TV to the ‘Poltergeist’ menu. With a smile he grinned at Jeremy, putting an arm around his shoulders, “A scary movie, eh? Don’t worry, you can hang onto me if you get too scared.”

It was downright comical to Jeremy, the idea of being protected by someone much thinner and weaker than himself. Laughing, he barely seemed to notice Rick pulling him closer, “Oh yeah, scrawny coke fiend. That’s who I want protecting me.”

Rick smirked, “Hey, don’t underestimate the power of love.”

“Creep,” Jeremy said, hitting him in the chest for his shitty joke, “We waiting for the pizza before we start?”

“Might as well, they’re right up the damn street,” Rick replied with a tilt of the head towards it, “What do you want to know about ole Rick?”

To his disappointment, Jeremy’s question was particularly sterile, “How’s it like actually working in Mount Massive? Know the crazies’ll outnumber us like twenty to one.”

“Eh, they’re not that bad,” Rick shrugged, “Kinda like watchin’ ‘em do stuff. Industrious bunch. We have plenty of activities for ‘em to do, first class establishment. I like the basketball games, get real heated. Bring some popcorn.”

“I’m talking more about the regular people,” Jeremy clarified, “Like who we’ll be working with. I assume you’re gonna be crawling up my ass at all hours of the day but what about everyone else?”

“Oh, you’re never going to be without me hanging off your arm,” Rick promised with a nod, eyes lolling to the side at the thought of his coworkers, “Everyone’s… alright. I guess. They mostly just leave me to my work, only talking to me if they need something.”

“Tough workspace then, real buckled down?” Jeremy asked.

Rick hesitated for a second before nodding, “Yeah, real serious environment for real serious work. Harrison won’t be breathing down your neck so hard though, if that’s something that worries you. Off doing boss stuff all the time. Never gets shit accomplished though.”

“How’s he stay at the top of the heap then?”

“Who knows. Because he’s already there? Because he doesn’t threaten the status quo? Because he’s the safe choice? Probably one of those things.”

“Well, that sucks,” Jeremy sneered a little, “Cowardice gets you nowhere.”

Rick seemed to like that, perking up and leaning in more, even with his arm still lying casually on the couch behind Jeremy, “I knew I liked you.”

“Any social events? Aside from horrible benefit galas?”

Rick smiled at the joke but sobered up at the actual question, “There’s… sometimes things.”

“Wow, helpful. Anything specific? I really don’t socialize outside work, kinda would like to know if that’s even an option.”

Rick moved his arm to lean his cheek on his fist, even closer to Jeremy now, “What, I’m not enough company for you? We can have as many of these little drunken sleepovers and movie nights as you want.”

“I’d like to see more than the inside of your apartment for the foreseeable future,” Jeremy replied, subconsciously leaning a bit away towards the man looming over him, “I mean, presumably you’d be there too if they’re company events, right? Hopefully not doing cocaine?”

“You’re not gonna let that one go, are ya buddy?”

“Absolutely not.”

For a while they got quiet, Jeremy just giving Rick a look as he waited for an answer to his question.

Eventually, Rick relented with a bit of irritance in his voice, “There’s… there’s a night they have. Every other week. Sort of a who’s-who but uh… I’ve never been invited.”

All of a sudden, it dawned on Jeremy what was up with the hesitation earlier. Rick didn’t want to talk about a social life in Mount Massive because he didn’t HAVE a social life in Mount Massive. Come to think of it, despite how charming he’d been towards the old lady… no one had said a word to him. He’d seen everyone else stop to chat or at least say hello to someone before working over the old people for donation.

But Rick? No one had talked to Rick despite his high ranking at Mount Massive.

No one but himself and he’d been ordered to.

Holy shit, as of last night, he is Rick’s only friend. God, that’s pathetic.

Putting everything he knew about Rick together it made sense. He was a oddly dressed, eccentric weirdo who does cocaine and has a poor concept of personal space. Hell, Jeremy himself wouldn’t have given this guy a second glance had Harrison not told him to watch him. And even if Rick had caught his attention without that, Jeremy would have bolted at the cocaine, leaving Rick to sink on his own.

Jeremy realized he’d been quiet for way too long now, staring blankly at Rick long enough for the man to have physically backed off. Retracting his arm and leaning away from him on a pillow, looking rather paranoid now.

Of course he’d be self conscious. Going off the nervous look he was giving him now he probably knew Jeremy’d figured it out, he wasn’t stupid.

And Rick knew that Jeremy was asking himself if he wanted to truly get tangled up in this.

Jeremy absolutely was, too. Did he really want to buddy it up with the office reject? Especially if he wanted to be head of Mount Massive instead of Harrison , would it not hinder him to be connected to Rick? Would every single other person there refuse to talk to him then? Become the second office reject?

Both jumped as the doorbell rang, having forgotten entirely about the pizza that was coming.

Rick sprung up at that, nearly running to the door to pay the greasy teenage delivery boy and bring the pizza back in. Setting it on the geometric, brightly colored coffee table. Looking at Jeremy, practically begging him once again not to leave, “You want a plate?”

Slowly nodding, Jeremy replied, “Yeah, get me a drink too. Non-alcoholic this time.”

\- - -

The movie and pizza passed in an awkward, near silence.

Rick knowing that Jeremy could full-on choose to ignore him from this moment on.

Jeremy knowing that he absolutely should cut this off before Rick gets too attached.

As the movie ended and the pizza box found itself almost empty, Rick reached a remote up and flicked off the DVD player to stop the endless loop of the movie’s title screen. Looking over at Jeremy with a somewhat defeated smile, “You wanna watch another one?”

“No, I really should get home now,” Jeremy refused as he pushed himself off the couch, “Got to get some shit in order before work starts on Monday.”

“Alright…” Rick said through repressed disappointment, “I’ll see you at work then?”

Something about this conversation felt very make-it-or-break-it. Like, this was the moment for Jeremy to decide whether to keep this purely professional from now on or turn it into an actual, legitimate friendship.

Jeremy knew the pragmatic choice would be to stop this now, only deal with Rick when Harrison orders him to. But some other part of him was… curious. Rick was certainly the weirdest, most interesting person he’d ever met, if a bit wild and bordering on dangerous.

Before he could stop himself, Jeremy nodded, “Of course. Maybe do something next weekend?”

Despite Jeremy’s trepidation at his decision, Rick’s face lit up like Christmas in Times Square with a smile sharply cut from ear to ear, “You like to golf, Jer? If you don’t, now you do. I’m going next Saturday and you’re coming with me, buddy.”


	4. Give Him The Ol’ Razzle Dazzle

Singing to himself, wildly off key, Rick pulled the brush through his long hair over and over again.

He’d woken up extra early today to spend more time getting ready for work. He needed to look perfect today. Hair looking good, his best outfit on, accessorized. He had to be ready.

Today would be Jeremy Blaire’s first day and damned if Richard “The Charmer” Trager was going to let someone else show him around.

Okay, nobody calls him “The Charmer” but he calls himself that in his head and that’s all that matters, right? Right? No, it doesn’t but he also doesn’t care. He’ll call himself whatever he wants where ever he wants.

Anyone would have thought he was a madman if they’d walked in on him, practicing his smile in the bathroom mirror while he pulled his hair back into a low ponytail. Posing over and over again, loving all of his angles too much to pick a favorite.

Despite his confidence in his own appearance, Rick ultimately knew he still had to impress Jeremy to get anywhere. He’d failed to dig an answer out of Jeremy but something in his gut still said it wasn’t a hopeless cause. The guy probably liked other guys, right?

Rick wouldn’t call it gaydar because he’s not stupid. Only idiots call it gaydar. Stupid, usually straight people who like to point at stereotypes and think they’re clever.

Those dumb fucks who say it’s gaydar always think he’s gay. Joke’s on them, it’s not just men. Well, it kind of is. But not of his own choice or preference, women just find him abrasive and annoying while men are more likely to… tolerate... him.

And oh, would he like Jeremy to tolerate him.

The suit he’d picked out was maybe a little too dressed up but that wasn’t going to stop him. Stepping out of his bathroom, into the bedroom he looked at it. Gaudy pink jacket, purple cheetah print shirt, darker purple pants, a couple golden accessories. The pink glasses today, he had a rainbow of them of course. A normal human would have looked at it in horror but Rick was quite proud of his fashion sense as he started putting it on.

Admiring himself in the full length mirror, Rick decided he was ready to go.

\- - -

It wasn’t hard for Rick to figure out where Jeremy was, crouched over the front desk in the administrative office. Watching him from the floor above, Rick could see he’d made it most of the way through the paperwork. So much red tape for him to cut through before he could get to the juicy bits.

Rick stayed up there for now, looking down to the floor below. He knew that it was maybe definitely creepy that he was just watching him from a distance but, hey, Rick hadn’t had a crush someone for a long time. Let him have this.

Timing it perfectly, Rick started heading downstairs to be there when Jeremy finished the last page.

The second he did, Jeremy felt a hand grab him on either shoulder and start massaging while a familiar voice spoke, “Hey buddy, having fun with all the rigamarole?”

Jeremy didn’t try to get his hands off, which was a plus in Rick’s eyes, as he responded, “I was wondering how long I’d have until you showed up.”

Spinning him around in the chair, Rick leaned over until they were on nearly eye level, “What, not happy to see me?”

The smarmy grin Jeremy gave him could have been read as sarcastic but seemed to lean positive, “Not happy to see you? No, I just expected you to be waiting at the front door for me. Been wondering where the hell you were.”

Smiling back, Rick tilted his head, “What and be around for all the paperwork?”

“That’s fair,” Jeremy nodded, “Let me guess, you’re giving me a tour now?”

“Oh absolutely, I wouldn’t dream of letting someone else show you around. Who else would give you the first class treatment other than me?”

\- - -

They stuck to the administrative block first, Rick happily leading him through it and pointing out random people. Most people seemed annoyed at his presence but hey, Jeremy was letting him hang off his shoulders so Rick wasn’t too upset by that.

I mean, that had to be a good sign right? Jeremy was absurdly alright with Rick touching him, hang off him, walk hip-to-hip with him. What the hell kinda guy lets a guy do that if he doesn’t like guys?

Pushing open the door with the name “Blaire” on the plaque, Rick gestures in, “And this is where you live now.”

It was a damned decent office, built very much in the same slightly outdated style as the rest of the administrative block. Unlike the ones they’d passed it was extremely sterile, only the computer sitting on the desk. Rick couldn’t help but wonder what type of things Jeremy would decorate his desk with. Didn’t see him as a photo guy, probably esoteric looking desk toys that he never touches but gets angry at you if you try to play with them.

“Good size, could be bigger,” Jeremy said, looking around it, “Nicer desktop than most of the other workers, appreciate that.”

“Better than mine,” Rick said, “Been harassing them to give me a newer one.”

“Your office nearby?” Jeremy asked.

Instead of answering, Rick just grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the doorway. Gesturing proudly across the hallway at the shining plaque reading “Trager” on the door right across the hallway.

“Okay, so you’re going to be crawling up my ass all day whenever you get even a little bit bored is what you’re saying,” Jeremy joked, although there was a slight defeated tone lurking beneath the surface.

“Hey, who says you won’t be the one crawling up MY ass?” Rick gave him the slimiest smile.

But, miraculously, as far as he could tell that still sailed over Jeremy’s head, “Unlike you, I have some sort of self control.”

“Ah, self control’s overrated,” Rick started pulling him out of the office, “I prefer to just do whatever I want and worry about consequences later.”

\- - -

Despite that, Rick was clearly willing to follow a few rules as they approached the security room.

Both Rick and Jeremy had been aggressively briefed on the importance of not walking around the asylum without a security guard. Rick, while reckless, wasn’t stupid.

“I had this arranged before you got here,” Rick beamed, “Wanted to make sure we’d get someone, not into gettin’ grabbed and attacked by a patient. Some of ‘em don’t have a great concept of ‘people want to keep their fingers’ and other basic concepts. We’re getting the scariest guard too so you know we’ll be safe.”

The security guard was waiting out front for them but hadn’t noticed them yet. Jeremy stopping in his tracks and grabbing Rick’s arm to stop him too, “Holy fucking shit, is that the security guard?”

“Yep, big fucker isn’t he?” Rick said, starting to brag, “He’s ex-military police, multiple tours in Afghanistan.”

“Jesus, he doesn’t even look like a fucking human,” Jeremy hissed at him, “How tall is he?”

“Dunno but I’m six foot two and he’s more than half a foot taller than me… I’d say going on seven foot? Maybe a little bit below?”

“Christ.”

“Chris, actually. Chris Walker.”

Rick honestly was pretty used to seeing the huge man by this point but damned if he didn’t get the trepidation one would feel looking at him for the first time. Dude could rip your head off without breaking a sweat.

Didn’t look friendly either. Short blonde hair in an austere military cut, cold blue eyes, face in a permanent grimace. Height, seven footish, weight, who the fuck knows. Rick hadn’t asked him, would you? Couldn’t even guesstimate that one. Rick weighed about one-forty soaking wet, they weren’t even remotely comparable.

Not to mention the man barely said a word, Rick’d heard him grunt more than he’d heard him talk.

Despite all this, Rick had no fear of the behemoth.

“Hey there Strongfat, I don’t get to say this much but how’s the weather up there?” Rick said, patting the guard’s stomach with the back of his hand.

All he got was a growl in return and a sharp glare. Unfortunately, he was used to this treatment by the scrawny, tacky man. Easily one of his least favorite higher ups. And now he had to walk around with him and some new guy who looked like a dick too.

“It’s stormy,” Rick whispered to Jeremy, eliciting a cruel smile from him and an even angrier look from Chris.

The walk to the ward was filled by Rick and Jeremy chatting, Chris stomping behind them. Particularly unhappy that he was being dragged away from patrolling to follow around after a couple corporate douchebags.

Rick honestly would have forgotten Chris was even there if not for the clanking of the large ring of keys at his side. Otherwise, he was entirely engrossed in making jokes and flirtatious comments at Jeremy. And yet, the man still didn’t seem to react to the flirts as anything but also jokes. Frankly, at this point, Rick was downright shocked he hadn’t notice. Or, if he was, he was hiding it flawlessly.

Behind them, Chris cringed at the obvious and frankly gross flirtations. This was the worst day.

“We really got a lot of these poor bastards, don’t we?” Jeremy marveled as he looked around the wide room, “Think we could squeeze a few more in? I know we get a lot from the families and/or government to house ‘em.”

“We tried putting two or more in each room with bunk beds but uh, kept fighting each other and while we don’t get a LOT of visitors we got enough that they started asking questions. Some stayed like that though. Got upset when we tried to separate them again. It’s saving us a handful of rooms so, eh, let ‘em.”

“If it ain’t broke and can’t make us more money, don’t fix it?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Rick leaned on Jeremy harder, having not taken his arm from around his shoulders this entire time, “Anything to save a few bucks. Get you and me a bigger bonus at the end of the year.”

Both men laughed, Chris just huffed behind them. Sharp eyes catching something they didn’t but allowing it to happen with a ghost of a smirk on his face.

Jeremy was suddenly pulled harshly against the bars, the patient inside grabbing his lapel and jerking him over to yell in his ear. Mindless gibberish, at full volume. Rick falling over onto the ground by virtue of how much of his weight he’d been putting on Jeremy.

Chris let the pandemonium go on for maybe a few seconds more than he should have before banging on the bars to get the patient to let go. The reverb vibrating unpleasantly against Jeremy’s skull before he was released. Chris doing his best not to laugh or even crack a smile as he watched Rick awkwardly scramble to his feet while Jeremy pushed himself upright.

Jeremy shot Chris an angry glare but ultimately knew he couldn’t fault the giant for not being psychic. Ignoring him, he brushed some dirt off of Rick’s back for him, “You alright?”

Adjusting his glasses, Rick angrily watched the patient tilting his head at them curiously from behind the bar. Eyes flicking up at Chris, making it obvious the only reason he wasn't continuing to reach out and grab at them to deliver his gospel of nonsense was the guard’s presence.

Again the bars were banged on as Rick yelled back at the patient whose eyes flew wide as he quickly scrambled to get away from him. Slamming on the ground before disappearing under the bed to stare up at Rick fearfully.

However, he looked very proud of himself when he turned back to Jeremy, “Figures. Asshole didn’t like getting a taste of his own medicine.”

Rick’s smarmy smile only got wider and wider as Jeremy laughed at, and quickly after, with him.

For a second it looked like Rick was gonna antagonize the trapped patient further to amuse his cohort until Chris put himself between the cackling asshole and the cowering man.

Not looking to pick a fight with a man ten times his size, Rick set about the next best thing. Redraping himself over Jeremy and leading him back out, “Gonna stop by the rec area next, these fucks are really industrious. They love the cooking and woodworking classes.”

“You ever considered trying to see if we can sell what they make? I mean, they do it with prison labor. Just have to find a company that needs cheap labor and doesn’t ask questions,” Jeremy suggested with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, you’re just perfect aren’t you?” Rick cooed, feeling an honest-to-god flutter in his blackened little heart.

“I like to think I am,” Jeremy nodded.

“Let’s get going, but this time try to stay out of grabbing distance of everyone but me and sasquatch back there.”

He jerked his head back at Chris who scowled again as the two dicks laughed at him.

\- - -

Mercifully, poor Chris was released for a bit as they approached the elevator. Ordered to just wait for their return as they went into a classified area.

“God this place has creepy little elevators…” Jeremy complained as they sunk down into the facility.

Rick kicked the side of it in annoyance, “Oh they’re the worst. Pretty sure they’ve never been replaced since they built this place. I’m convinced I’m gonna die in one of these damned things.”

But as the doors opened they found themselves in an oddly modern laboratory, looking out of place compared to the slightly outdated building style of the building above and most certainly the rickety elevator they stepped out of.

As quiet as the entrance was, the further Rick led Jeremy into the place he heard more and more screaming. Men and women, shrieking their lungs out. Extremely muffled, of course, by glass and metal.

What few patients Jeremy could see looked defeated, strapped to tables and chair and awaiting their fate.

“So this is where they run the experiments?” Jeremy said before joking, “Really happy place, think we could open it up for visitors like a theme park? The theme is human misery.”

RIck giggled like a damned schoolgirl and put his arm around Jeremy’s shoulders again, “You know, Jer, I really like you.”

“Hope you like me if you’ve got an arm around my neck all the time,” Jeremy smirked, “Be a pretty threatening gesture if you didn’t.”

A long moment hung in the air and yet somehow despite the fact they were looking into each other’s eyes from less than a foot apart, Rick still for the life of him couldn’t read the look Jeremy was giving him.

Giving up, Rick started walking a bit faster, “I don’t know too much about the experiments off hand but I read up on the things they’ve been giving me constantly over the weekend. Complicated stuff, maybe you and me could have a little tête-à-tête over martinis some night and really get into it.”

Maybe get into something else, if you know what I mean. Jeremy’s pants. The joke is Rick getting into Jeremy’s pants.

“Sounds good,” Jeremy nodded, Rick ecstatic that so far he hadn’t gotten a single ‘no’ out of him for hanging out.

Pushing open the final door, Rick’s eyes glistened at the small control room leading out into the wide, open room. A massive ball, surrounded by smaller ones and plenty of screens. Rick excitedly looked over at Jeremy who looked like a kid in the world’s evilest candy shop.

“That the Morphogenic Engine?” Jeremy asked, as obvious as the answer was.

“Sure is and I got something real special arranged for you,” Rick grinned, ignoring the scientists bustling around them to pull him into the room with the actual device.

Rick let go of Jeremy to allow him to excitedly approach the machine, lazily following after him.

A few scientists eyeballed them curiously but ultimately knew that the both of them were so high above their heads that they better keep them down lest they lose them.

Looking back at Rick, Jeremy asked, “Alright, is just getting to be in here the surprise or?”

Just as Rick opened his mouth to answer there was a loud banging as two doors flung open on the opposite side of the room. Stepping back a bit, Jeremy watched as two armed men started dragging a screaming man in.

He was obviously a patient despite the lack of uniform, clad only in his underwear and the tattoos patchworked across his exposed skin. Long hair and scraggly beard drenched in sweat as he tried to pull himself free from his captors. Eyes wild, screaming obscenities, cursing ‘the man.’

Jeremy let Rick grab his arm and drag him away from one of the empty orbs on the ground in front of them, sounding giddy, “Figured you’d like to watch the magic happen with your own two eyes. Arranged for Mr… Mr… ah, damn it, forgot his name. Whatever, arranged for Mr. Dirty Hippie here to help us with a little demonstration.”

To his extremely evident delight Rick watched Jeremy’s face light up with a smile, looking back at him before up at the struggle going on in front of them with a hopelessly cheerful, “Aw, Rick, you shouldn’t have.”

For a second Rick didn’t answer, didn’t even look at the chaos unfolding in front of them as the patient was forced into the machine.

He just stood there, stealing excited glances at Jeremy before slowly moving his hand from the man’s shoulders to his waist.

“It was my pleasure.”


	5. A Gambling Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have never played non-mini golf in my entire goddamn life and it is so obvious in this chapter i am sorry

The shine off his expensive watch nearly blinded Jeremy, flinching before adjusting it to see the time.

Rick was late. Jeremy didn’t know anything about the man’s punctuality but “unfashionably late” was something that made perfect sense for his character.

Nonetheless, it was irritating. He leaned on the golf bag and stared out, accusatory, at the parking lot. He had no idea what Rick’s car looked like but given how Rick dressed himself and decorated his apartment…

Well, Jeremy had a feeling that whatever Rick drove it was going to be best described as “endearing garish” like the man himself.

Sighing, Jeremy looked back at the country club. He always hated the damn things, his parents had tried to get him into activities at theirs when he was young but even then he found them stupid. He preferred his status to be more… utilitarian.

His clothes were fashionable but not loud. His apartment was immaculate but minimalistic. His car was expensive but black and lowkey. Practical. Stylish. Expensive.

Maybe that’s why he genuinely seemed to enjoy Rick’s company despite all the man’s massive, gaping flaws. His clothes were tacky and probably haven’t been replaced in thirty years. His apartment was messy and chaotic, obnoxiously old fashioned. Gaudy. Loud. Wild.

Rick was, for all purposes, his exact opposite. Like a child in a zoo, he found such a weird creature fascinating.

Not to mention that Rick was really his only friend right now. Mostly that was due to the move and would certainly change but for now he’s all he has. Rick, on the other hand, had had plenty of time to make more friends here but had none. Telling.

Screeching tires sounded Rick’s arrival, immediately reminding Jeremy why the man probably had no friends and telling him that he probably shouldn’t be one either.

Jeremy had been right about the car. Bright magenta convertible, retro looking, seats a horrible purple zebra print. Fuzzy dice hanging off the mirror, of course. Rick himself sitting in the driver’s seat, arm hanging out the side as he swerved crookedly into a parking spot.

The second he stepped out Jeremy was immediately aware of the fact he had absolutely done some coke before showing up.

Rick wobbled over in the ugliest fucking golf outfit Jeremy had ever seen in his life. Highlighter colors, blue and yellow. Plaid pants tucked into knee socks, argyle sweater vest over a shirt. Visor that simply read “hottie” and most certainly had been intended for women. God, where does he even find these things?

When he managed to get his drugged up ass over to Jeremy he immediately almost broke his arm in a way-too-tight hug, all but yelling in his ear, “Sorry I’m late, traffic, you know?”

“And cocaine? Did cocaine help with that too?” Jeremy couldn’t help the accusatory tone in his voice. Undercut by the fact he patted Rick’s back. Maybe a little harder than necessary.

“Nah, nah, nah, I did that at a stoplight like… right there,” he pointed in a vague direction, other arm still holding Jeremy tight against him, “I was bored and I play way better high so I was going to be doing this anyways.”

Jeremy’s mouth was a thin line as Rick started dragging him inside, unbelievably irritated that he was going to have to be dealing with this. Despite his weird trepidation in being friends with The Company Weirdo he’d been looking forward to this. But now it has to be spend it with High Rick instead of Regular Rick.

Then again… alright, coked up Rick… well Jeremy wouldn’t admit to it with a gun to his head, but that first night hanging out with Rick had been the wildest, funnest night of his life. Maybe today would take that same course.

Coming back to the now, he became acutely aware of the fact everyone was staring warily at Rick. He certainly had been here before, enough to garner a reputation that made judging eyes glare at him as he passed.

“You come here often?” Jeremy asked, a particularly petulant looking blonde mother of three sneering at him when he made eye contact.

“Used to be a member, maybe got kicked out of membership. Let me come back to use exclusively the golf course with a little, uh, financial assistance. Technically, I’m not supposed to walk through even the lobby though.”

“Somehow, I guess,” Jeremy replied, with a look towards the blonde woman again.

Rick caught that, loudly and cheerfully yelling out to her, “LINDA! How’s the kids?”

‘Linda’ didn’t answer, just corralled her tiny horde of aryan brats away from him with a harsh glare.

“Yeah, nice seein’ ya too Lind,” he laughed, pulling Jeremy towards the exit to the golf course, “C’mon, I’m really not supposed to be in here and she can and will snitch. We should get going.”

\- - -

Stepping up to the tee area, Jeremy surveyed the course. It was a damned nice one, he could see why Rick would buy his way back into this particular one.

His quiet enjoyment of the environment was cut short by Rick, presumably jealous that literally anything else had Jeremy’s attention for even one second. Grabbing his friend’s shoulder, cheshire grin on his face, “Hey Jer, you a gamblin’ man?”

“I’ve been known to make questionable decisions with money,” Jeremy raised an eyebrow at him, “What are you proposing?”

“Questionable? Oh Jer, have you lost it all in Las Vegas before?”

“Not all of it, just more of it than I should have.”

Temporarily distracted, Rick had even more offers, “Oh we NEED to go to Vegas together.”

“I met you a week ago.”

“Should have gone the night we met.”

“We should not have.”

Getting back on track, Rick went back to the first topic on the table, “Whatever, back to the wager. How about this, you win? I buy you a nice, new set of golf clubs. If I win? You buy me dinner.”

What a one sided bet, Jeremy’d have to stupid as fuck not to take it. Several hundred dollars verus, what a hundred tops? And only if Rick wanted to go somewhere expensive. So far he’d only seen Rick eat junk food and alcohol. Could cost him only like twenty bucks to sate the fiend.

Not to mention the fact he was definitely going to win. Don’t do drugs, kids.

“Deal,” Jeremy smirked, extending a hand which Rick firmly gripped and shook.

Jeremy supposed he should be intimidated by the manic glint in Rick’s eye as he stepped back with a flair down to the tee, “Ladies first.”

Placing a white ball down on the tee, he pulled out whatever club is appropriate for teeing off from his worn out bag. I don’t know what kind of club that would be. I don’t even think “teeing off” is the right term. All I know is “putter” is for the last part by the hole. Cut me a break.

Jeremy turned it over in his hands real quick, it really was in shoddy shape. Smiling up at Rick, “Last chance to back out, once I hit this ball it’s locked in.”

“You kidding? Your fate was sealed with the handshake. Get on with it,” Rick waved at him to go.

“Alright, slap away my offer of mercy,” Jeremy shrugged with a confident smirk as he steadied his grip on the club and took a look out at the first hole.

A short, simple one. Curving around a small lake. One, halfway around, then clean shot to the hole. Easy. Swinging his club back before smacking it with all his might. Watching it sail majestically and land halfway to the hole.

Proudly, he smiled over Rick and gestured for him to go now.

Rick’s ball was neon pink, unsurprising.

His confidence in his victory only strengthened as he watched Rick shakily line up the shot.

Cocaine makes you play better? Bullshit.

Jeremy smirked at the club wobbling slightly as Rick raised it. It was pointed too far left, the ball was going to go right into the water. That prophecy seemingly coming true as Rick hit it with a loud noise of victory.

But as Jeremy watched it… yeah, it was head towards the water but more…

Wait, the asshole wasn’t aiming to go OVER the water, was he?

Idiot. It wasn’t going to…

It absolutely was.

Jeremy’s jaw dropped as it bounced, perfectly, about ten feet from the hole.

He stayed like that until he felt a hand on his chin, closing his mouth. Rick giggling down at him, “Left you speechless, did I? I tend to do that.”

Shaking his head, Jeremy sounded much less confident now, “This… this is just the first hole.”

But this turned out to be par for the course. Each and every hole making it more and more obvious Jeremy’d been hustled. Or not. Considering Rick had openly told him he plays better high and had never once claimed to be bad.

There was a while in the middle where Jeremy thought he might stand a chance as the drugs wore off but Rick recovered from coming off his high like a champ.

Rick was, of course, insufferable after his steamroll of a victory.

Sauntering up to Jeremy, he nearly took him down for the second time today as he hung off his shoulders. Finger circling over and over on Jeremy’s chest, grinning sharply, “Oh Jer, Jeremy, Jeremiah. Learn anything fun today?”

“No, but I learned a bunch of unfun things,” Jeremy replied, grabbing the offending hand in warning, “Also, my full name is just Jeremy. Not Jeremiah.”

“Well, Jeremiah,” Rick continued undaunted, pulling his hand free to play with Jeremy’s hair, “What I think you learned today is exactly how amazing I am at everything I do.”

“I think what I’ve learned is you’re an obnoxious winner,” Jeremy grabbed his hand to stop him again, “God forbid I ever see your inevitable ‘sore loser.’”

“Implying I’d ever lose,” Rick scoffed, “I’m a winner, Jer. It’s what I do. I win.”

“Alright, alright, you won,” Jeremy tried to pull him up but Rick was determined to hang off him, “Now what do you want?”

“I can think of all sorts of things I want,” Rick narrowed his eyes with a filthy smirk.

“Well, pick quick because I’m hungry. Preferably don’t make me suffer through anything too hoity-toity. None of that ‘three small slices of cabbage and chicken with a reduction sauce’ garbage.”

Oh, the wager. Yeah, food. Restaurants.

“Just a little hoity-toity. I know a very expensive sushi place but it’s damn good.”

“Of course you like weird shit like that.”

“I’m into all sorts of weird shit,” Rick only beamed before letting go of Jeremy’s shoulders only to grab his wrist, “C’mon, let's go get something to eat.”

\- - -

It was weird to Jeremy how Rick had gone from drugged up, to braggy, to starry eyed all within the course of one day.

Last bit was kind of odd to Jeremy, who had questions about that as well as the most pressing questions of “when and where did you change your clothes?” because Rick left the golf course in one outfit, showed up to the restaurant ten minutes away wearing a completely different one.

Slightly less horrible. Bright blue and yellow still but a suit at least. Vaguely shiny blue jacket with a horrible yellow and black tie that looked like caution tape over a touch less glaringly blue button up. Yellow pants made it extra terrible again though.

Rick had curled himself around Jeremy’s arm this time, a slightly more uncomfortably intimate gesture that he endured only because he was certain the man would insist it was a part of the parameters of his victory.

But, mercifully, by the time they were seated Rick let go. Content to sit across the small table from him, bouncing his leg while he looked at the menu. Unknowing or uncaring that his foot was kicking Jeremy in the shin every now and then.

God, Jeremy really didn’t know what to order even as the perky waitress approached them. Teriyaki chicken looked amenable. Picking that, he figured it was a safe bet. Rick, on the other hand, ordered a bunch of things that Jeremy couldn’t even begin to recognize. Rick also insisted on some Japanese alcohol Jeremy hadn’t tried. Sake. Sounded gross.

The two of them chatted about inane work stuff as they waited for their food to show up. Eventually having their plates placed in front of them, their drinks off to the side.

“So, Rick…” Jeremy started, immediately abandoning the chopsticks in favor of a fork, “How’d you get so good at golf?”

“What, you want me to give up my secrets? At least buy me dinner first,” Rick giggled at himself, waving a piece of raw fish at him. Much better at using the chopsticks.

Jeremy tried not to laugh at his stupid joke, “I’m already buying you dinner and you know that.”

“My parents really wanted me to grow up and be rich so they’d enroll me in anything that made me seem high class. Golfing, cotillion, horseback riding, ect. Of those three, hated one, enjoyed the other two. Stuck with only one though.”

“Thank god, last thing I want is you dragging me out to go ride a freaking horse.”

“What? Don’t like riding horses?”

“Never been on one. Never will be. Don’t trust any animal big enough to ride.”

Sneering cheerfully, Rick teased, “Must be real hard not trusting other people.”

“Ha. Ha. Creep.”

“Anyways, yeah I just… kept with golfing,” Rick ignored the word he was so used to hearing, “Dropped everything else. Parents didn’t like that but hey, do you really think anyone, even my parents, could ever control me?”

“Well, you got the status they wanted at least.”

Rick scoffed through a mouthful of food, “Not what I wanted. Wanted to be a doctor, parents said business school or they weren’t gonna help pay.”

“What, doctor wasn’t good enough for them?” Jeremy asked, lazily pushing the food around his plate, “Most parents would kill for a kid who wants to be a doctor.”

“Nah, dad was a lawyer and said it would be too many lawsuits. Mom was an executive though. Wanted me to be a corporate shill like her and now I am.”

“So you absolutely can be controlled,” Jeremy laughed, “Good job.”

Rick looked pensive for a second, pursing his lips, before shrugging, “Well. Fuck. Guess you can. Just gotta trick me into it.”

“Noted. If I ever want anything from you, gotta be clever about it.”

“Heh, all you’d need to do is ask,” Rick winked at him, “Always a bit more willing to help someone I like.”

“Glad to have you on my team then, hate to have to be working against you,” Jeremy took another bite of his meal. Wasn’t crazy about it.

“Hey, don’t piss me off and I’ll be your greatest ally,” Rick replied, “So far, I think you and me are gonna go far, Jer. In both business and recreation. You down to do another one of these golf outings again? Win back your honor?”

“I ain’t taking another golf bet from you, jackass,” Jeremy shook his head, “We can go golfing again but I don’t wanna be having to buy you dinner all the time.”

“Hey, the wager doesn’t have to be for food. We can see a movie. Go to a concert. Get coffee. Take a hike. Watch the sunset. Go mini-golfing after regular golfing.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow at the suggestions, “You want some weird shit, you know that, right?”

For a second, Jeremy could have sworn Rick looked uncertain before he reached across the table, grabbed his hand, and deftly interlocked their fingers with a suggestive grin and unmistakable bedroom eyes, “Well, Jer, if you aren’t real big on wining and dining me we could always just make the wagers a little more carnal. Whatever ‘weird shit’ you like.”

Looking down at his own hand invaded by Rick’s claw, coke nail and all, Jeremy realized he’s the stupidest man in the entire goddamn world.

That wager wasn’t “buy me dinner” it was “take me out on a date.”

Of fucking course Rick just wasn’t an eccentric with no sense of personal space.

Silently berating himself, Jeremy found himself questioning if merely the fact he was working for an asylum was instantly driving him nuts. Why, for the love of god, had he been letting this guy hang all over him? He’s only known him for a week.

Why did had he felt any compulsion to spend ANY time with this man?

And why, for all that’s holy, was some part of his brain telling him to take Rick up on that offer?

Sounding a bit shaky, Rick continued if only to end the deathly silence, “You know. Cut out the middleman and just head back to my place afterwards. Or now. I’d be okay with now.”

The sound of shattering porcelain against the table was loud as Jeremy suddenly and violently jerked his hand out of Rick’s. Sending shards of the destroyed cup and most of the undrunk drink onto his lap.

Panic and instinct beating out logic, Rick grabbed a napkin with a swear and began to reach out to help clean Jeremy off in some sort of bid to regain his clearly lost approval, “S-shit, Jer, I’m sorr-”

Jeremy nearly took the table out too as he abruptly and suddenly stood up with a loud, “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!”

Like a scared rabbit, Rick froze with his arm in midair. Everyone in the restaurant now turned to look at them, curious as to the sudden outburst that had interrupted the calm, quiet music. Seeing an alcohol covered man in business casual looking down at a neon trainwreck who looked downright terrified.

Jeremy looked around the room, at the judging eyes, for a second before wordlessly turning and all but bolting for the door.

Leaving Rick there, alone, staring down at the remains of his dinner and wondering if he should just say, fuck it, the evening’s ruined, your only friend things you’re a freak, might as well finish your goddamn food.

Sighing, Rick did just that.


	6. Overtime For Two

Rick looked downright like he was in mourning when he stepped through the doors of Mount Massive on Monday morning.

It garnered him looks of confusion, coworkers baffled to see Trager in what was just shy of a normal suit. Black jacket, white shirt. Even a normal pair of untinted glasses. Only tacky thing about him was how questionably low it was unbuttoned, gold chain hanging underneath.

Nobody there had ever seen him in anything less than a neon nightmare. A few even wondered ‘who died?’ An even smaller few asked in this minds ‘who the hell would Rick have close enough for him to care if they died?’

Rick wasn’t stupid, he knew people were talking about him. Hell, he’d known people would find this outfit weird. But when he’d put on his regular clothes he just… felt too loud. For himself, not for others. He couldn’t care less about others.

Well, he cared about one other and goddamn had he fucked that up.

I mean, Rick had always known it was a possibility that Jeremy would turn him down but to yell at him and storm out?

Because like… fuck, he’d gotten the man naked and in his bed, albeit not concurrently, within twenty-four hours of meeting him. How was he supposed to take that for anything but AT LEAST vague interest? Or, more realistically, POINTED interest.

Fuck it, don’t mention that. Definitely don’t mention that. Of course, there was always a decent chance that Jeremy was in denial but uh, when you’ve got exactly one friend you maybe shouldn’t push it. At least not that hard and all at once.

I mean, right now Rick’s trying to plan the best way to grovel to Jeremy that won’t leave him high and dry, alone again. He was really banking on that being a panic reaction, especially as he reached the door with the plaque shining “Blaire” at him.

Standing there, staring at it, long enough to start garnering attention, Rick eventually reached up and knocked.

\- - -

Jeremy hadn’t fared much better the past night, half from guilt, half from confusion.

He supposed, somewhere, somehow, he knew that Rick had been interested in him but why he allowed it to escalate was a mystery to himself.

Was it the attention? He knew he was usually so wrapped up in his work that no one paid him any mind. An uncharacteristic need for a friend? Maybe all those years of solitude were getting to him. A circus show? Rick certainly led an… interesting life.

Was it because Harrison had assigned Rick to him? Well, at least Jeremy knew it wasn’t that one because he’d certainly gone above and beyond that call of duty.

Either way Jeremy… felt bad. Was this empathy? Was he feeling emotions like a kid again? He didn’t like it.

Sitting at his desk, he looked at the small pile of money off to the side. He knew that not only had he stormed out like a corporate toddler but he also hadn’t made good on his half of the wager. To pay for dinner.

At some point during today he had to talk to Rick and at least pay off the debt. He wasn’t sure what to do about the rest of this friendship. He hadn’t had too many “friends” but he had the distinct feeling that somehow Rick still wasn’t the first friend who wanted to fuck him.

Salvageable still, Jeremy assumed. If he… augh… apologized. He hasn’t done that since he was in elementary school. Now he was pretty sure he was going to burst into flames like a demon in a church when he did.

Right now, he was trying to decide whether he should get it out of the way at the beginning of the day or wait until the end.

He wasn’t really given a choice as there was a light knocking at the door.

Jeremy really didn’t have any doubts to who it was.

“Come in,” Jeremy said.

Seeing the weirdly monochromatic Rick squeeze through the barely opened door was jarring. A Rick reduced.

“Hey, uh, Jeremy.”

Full name. Rick was backing off like a scared animal.

Rick was nervously running a hand through his ponytail, “About… last night…”

“I want to apologize.”

No one beats Jeremy, not even to saying they’re sorry.

Rick looked shocked at that, jaw hanging open, “Really?”

“Yeah I… look, let’s not get into the particulars but what I did was fucked, okay? I made a scene and ran out like a kid throwing a tantrum. I just… wasn’t braced for things to take that kind of turn.”

Biting back a joke about aforementioned nudity-and-sleeping-together, Rick nodded, “I uh… thought you knew what was going on. I mean, you REALLY let me hang off you.”

“Just thought you were an eccentric not that you were…”

“I can be both, I’m complex,” Rick gestured to himself with a flair.

“Speaking of, what’s with this get up,” Jeremy gestured to Rick’s uncharacteristic outfit, “You look borderline normal. I’m almost surprised you have a normal pair of glasses.”

“Excuse you, I was DISTRAUGHT,” Rick objected, “You left me alone and crying into my sushi like the world’s biggest loser. You didn’t even pay. It was the world’s worst walk of shame and I didn’t even get laid.”

Right, the money. Picking up he held it up to Rick, “Yeah, I brought the money for that. Probably more than what it cost but fuck it, keep it. Consider it reparations.”

Taking it, Rick stuffed if somewhere into his unbuttoned shirt. Where he was sticking that, Jeremy wasn’t entirely certain. Twirling a piece of his ponytail, hanging over his shoulder “Sooo… are we cool then?”

“We’re cool. If you stop doing that shit with your hair, you look like the world’s creepiest schoolgirl.”

“Deal,” Rick released it, nearly skipping around the desk with his arms wide open. Not going to take ‘no’ for an answer, he hugged Jeremy tightly around the shoulders. Clearly not going to let go until it was returned.

Sighing, Jeremy patted his back, “You’re gonna stop hanging off me now though, you know that right?”

“Oh, don’t be a killjoy.”

“I’ll kill whatever I want. Especially joy.”

Letting him go, Rick was flippant, “Then what’s next for ole Rick and Jer?”

Back to the nickname. Reinflated, Rick looked… weirdly silly in normal clothes, like a child playing dress up.

Jeremy had planned at least a little something more, some attempt to distract Rick. He doubted the man had a terribly long attention span, dangle a shiny toy in front of him and he’ll chase that instead of focusing on… past events.

Jeremy grinned with a jab downwards, towards the laboratory below, “You and me are gonna actually learn about the experiments here. I know you told me those papers they were giving you were nothing but technical mumbo jumbo they assumed you wouldn’t read.”

“Not a bit of information in them but even a little information can be a dangerous thing. I like it,” Rick beamed, “And those stingy little scientist fuckers never let me touch anything. Barely even let me in the lab.”

“Well, legally, they have to let me touch whatever I want,” Jeremy grinned, “Anything short of shit Harrison’s barred me from I have full access to anything about project Walrider.”

“Let’s go indulge me then, Mr. Blaire.”

\- - -

The scientists immediately shot them a dirty look the second they stepped off the elevator.

Great, the corporate shills are here to make their jobs more difficult.

As far as they were concerned Jeremy should only be down there if someone was in trouble and Rick’s arrival… well, the cash vulture was only ever there to cut corners. Some of them even ducked into deeper labs and offices in attempt to avoid them as they walked.

Some of them did note, though, that Rick has hanging off Jeremy much less than they’d come to expect over the past week.

Mostly, they were just relieved that the men ignored the multitudes of experiments and walked right towards the engine room. Chatting amicably and not even looking at the people they passed.

A symphony of wails accompanied them, neither flinching at the misery around them.

“I know they keep most of the files on the project down here,” Rick said, drawing a map with his hands, “One of the rooms beyond the morphogenic engine, I don’t have clearance there. Or so the bitchy little scientists tell me. Oh, don’t give me that look you know what you are.”

His last sentence was directed at one of the passing men in blue, annoyed at being referred to as such.

That scientist was far from the only one objecting to their presence, one stepping up to stop the two of them, “Gentlemen, uh, not used to seeing you bottomside. What can I help you with?”

“Who the fuck are you?” was Rick’s polite and reasonable response.

Of course, the scientist didn’t appreciate that, “Carson Crestwood. I’m the lead scientist of the morpho-”

“Don’t need anything beyond ‘lead scientist’,” Rick cut him off, pointing back at Jeremy, “This guy, you know, the one in charge of all of us, wants through. You seem to be in the way. Move.”

“It’s just not tremendously safe to wander into the morphogenic engine room,” Carson said through gritted teeth.

Stepping in, Jeremy put a hand on the scientist’s shoulder with a firm push that put him behind them, “We’ve already been in there before, I just want to take a look some documents. Ricks says they’re-”

“You don’t have clearance for that. Harrison’s orders.”

“What?” Jeremy hissed at him, causing the man to immediately back down.

“Look, I’m just following orders,” Carson nearly whispered, “If it wasn’t for the big guy saying no, I’d say go nuts but he’d put my head on the chopping block in a heartbeat. I’ve got three kids. I need this job.”

Jeremy narrowed his eyes, biting back a comment about that being Carson’s problem, not his. However, he also knew he couldn’t kick up too much shit about things that Harrison had set up. The only person who outranked him, a dumb bastard.

Rick, however, had something ticking behind his plain glasses. Grabbing Jeremy by the arm, he started leading him out with nary but a flippant flip of the bird and a hard push to Carson with his shoulder. Ignoring the man muttering an insult under his breath.

Trying to pull his arm free, Jeremy knew something was brewing, “What are you scheming? You look like a weaselly bastard right now.”

With a grin, Rick reached into this seemingly endless shirt and fished out a keycard. Dangling it in front of Jeremy’s face, the name ‘Carson Crestwood’ on it in bold letter. Singsong, Rick said, “Better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission!”

“You sneaky son of a bitch,” Jeremy said, unable to keep the appreciative tone out of his voice.

“You and me are gonna lay low for the rest of the day then… just have a little overtime work on our hands, yeah? See what that fuck Harrison doesn’t want us seeing.”

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal.”

\- - -

One by one and two by two, Mount Massive grew emptier and emptier. Of employees, at least, as they swapped over to the night crew. But this was only upstairs. Guards and nurses, maybe a janitor or two. Just what was needed to watch over the patients and keep them in line.

The laboratory below? Was going to be completely, one hundred percent empty. No scientists worked overnight, all of them were out by ten at the very latest.

When Jeremy crossed the hallway to Rick’s office he found the man lazily reclining, feet kicked up on his desk. Clearly not doing anything related to work, obviously doodling. When circled around, it was clearly a very bad drawing of the two of them with ‘best friends’ scrawled over the top.

“Drew this for your fridge, if you don’t put it up you’ll make me legitimately angry,” Rick laughed, handing it over.

“It looks like a child drew this.”

“That’s what I was going for, as an artist.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeremy set it back on Rick’s desk, “Well, everyone’s gone, c’mon. Get the key.”

Fishing it out of a drawer, Rick looked all too excited to get going on this, “Ohhh I love breaking the rules.”

“Really? Couldn’t have guessed,” Jeremy watched Rick skip like a child around his desk, twirling the key like a mace. Following after him, shaking his head.

It wasn’t long before they were walking alone through the dark laboratory, as few lights on as possible. Weird, hearing nothing but the sound of their own footsteps as they crept along. Both not wanting to talk just in case a sole scientist was lurking around somewhere.

Rick found himself ignoring the urges he’d grown accustomed to indulging himself in, not draping himself all over Jeremy like he wanted to.

Carson’s keycard worked a charm. Getting them into the final lab. Into the morphogenic engine room. Getting them into the backroom.

File cabinets galore, each of them taller than the men themselves. A rolling step stool to get into the highest level.

“Jesus, where are you even supposed to start with this?” Jeremy mused, looking around and realizing exactly how over their heads they were.

“Well, pretty sure this is all the classified files so, if you need me, I’ll be digging around in ‘W’ for ‘Walrider.’ That’s what we want anyways, right? Doubt this whole damn room is related to it, just check for keywords that might be relevant” Rick answered before kicking open the appropriate low drawer with his foot before crouching over it to root around.

Immediately, the man was engrossed leaving Jeremy to wonder about… certain other things that might be in here.

It was easy enough for him to snoop around without Rick noticing, grabbing a drawer labelled ‘B’ and pulling it open. Rifling through before spotting his own name and pulling out a quite meager folder.

Mostly the folder consisted of the paperwork he’d filled out his first day along with a few general files on him.

A note slid out of the back, caught before it could flutter to the ground. Turning it around, Jeremy found it to be a handwritten note. Signed ‘Harrison’ at the bottom.

‘Please advise, remove Jeremy Blaire’s file from general and into classified. Access revoked. Has taken a bit too much of a shine to one Richard Trager. Keep an eye on him, might not be fit for position.’

A snarl twisted his face, that crusty old fucker. He was the one who’d told him to watch Trager in the first place and now he’s going to complain about it? What? What was he gonna say? Blaire, you did your job too thoroughly. Fuck you.

Looking at Rick, Jeremy found the man still engrossed in his task.

Well, if HIS file was back here certainly…

Pulling out one of the low drawers labelled ‘T’, he flicked through it until he was looking at ‘Trager.’

Unlike his own thin file, pulling out Trager’s was a bit more of a struggle. Too thick and wieldy to even pull out one handed, it could have been used as a weapon.

Curiously opening it, Jeremy wondered how the hell he could have even accrued this much in his file in such a short time. However, opening it it was immediately obvious that Rick had been Murkoff long before they’d acquired Mount Massive too. Just stationed far elsewhere from where Jeremy had been and for much, much longer.

However, whereas Jeremy had done much of his corporate climbing in prior companies before being hired over to Murkoff it looked like Rick had been working for them… jesus, since his twenties.

Behind his initial hiring papers, Jeremy found what must have been Rick’s first ID picture. Jeremy almost wouldn’t have believed it was him if not for the fact his fashion sense evidently hadn’t changed in at last twenty years. Obnoxiously popped collar on a tiger print shirt.

Rick himself though… well, if Rick had still looked like this last night he would have been a lot harder to turn him down. Rick had once made an offhand joke about how he’d done some modelling when he was younger. Now Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure that had been a joke.

For a brief second, Jeremy wondered why he’d aged so badly and so quickly but then he remembered. Cocaine. Lots of it. Don’t do drugs, kids.

Flicking through the ages, it was mostly complaints by other workers. Mostly regarding Rick’s unprofessional, childish behavior, drug and alcohol problems, and tendency to ditch his clothes the second he was even slightly incapacitated. Basically everything he’d learned that first night with him.

Speaking of, current day Rick had evidently found what he was looking for with a chipper “ha!” that nearly made Jeremy drop the hefty file.

He shoved it back in the drawer just in time to look busy elsewhere as Rick walked over with an exaggerated swagger, holding up several chunky files, “While you were busy painting your nails over here, I found exactly what we’re looking for. Can’t even carry it all at once. Hold your applause. Or don’t. I love to be praised.”

“Shit, you sure fucking did,” Jeremy said, freeing one stack of papers from him to start flipping through them, “It would take us hours to get through all of these.”

“We better get reading then, split it in half, we’ll get through it together,” Rick dismissed his concerns to dump the files on the very small, two chair table off in a corner before going back to collect the rest.

\- - -

“Jesus, they’re keeping a lot from us…” was all Jeremy really had to say as they left the room, heading the door automatically lock behind them.

“Wish they hadn’t been THAT cagey, could have done my job a lot better with that knowledge,” Rick nodded towards it, genuinely irritated, “What’s the point of hiding that information? If I knew the budget cuts were to make the patients lose touch with reality more I woulda been a lot less stingy with the stinginess.”

“Harrison’s a fucking idiot, is what the problem is,” Jeremy hissed.

“Amen to that,” Rick griped, “How he even got the job I’ll never know.”

“Who knows,” Jeremy shrugged, passing the glowing orbs, “Sure as fuck know I’d do a better job than him.”

“Hey, maybe they’ll realize he’s taking us nowhere fast and you’ll get your chance.”

“Maybe.”

As Rick went to pass the orbs too something caught his eye. Curiously approaching one of the pods, realizing they weren’t quite as alone at they’d thought. Waving Jeremy over next to him as he crouched slightly to be face to face with the trapped man inside, “Hey, looky looky, they left one of ‘em in here. Wonder if it was on purpose or not.”

Taking a few steps back, Jeremy saw he was right as he leaned in by Rick to gawk. A patient in there, either dead or asleep was suspended in the liquid.

“I have an almighty urge to tap on the glass,” Rick mumbled, hands twitching on his knees.

“Don’t, last thing we need is him waking up and being able to recognize us.”

“We don’t even know if he’s alive though, don’t you wanna know?”

“His chest is moving. He’s alive.”

He giggled at that, “Oh, so Mr. Straight Man is staring at men’s chests now?”

Jeremy shoved him with a laugh, shaking his head, “Shut up, Rick.”

He did, content to just snicker to himself and examine the trapped man next to Jeremy for now. It was weird to see one of them all hooked up like this, unmoving. No scientists pushing them away either.

God, did it look uncomfortable. He’d bite out his own tongue before letting them strap him into something like this. Or maybe someone else’s tongue. Send a message.

Returning to the moment, Rick looked over at Jeremy’s smiling face illuminated by the light of the pod. So focused he didn’t even notice being stared at. Appraised. Appreciated.

Yesterday was weird, Jeremy’s needlessly aggressive rejection. Today was somehow weirder, Jeremy’s contrasting passive acceptance. Even doing something extra like this with him. It was excessive, leaving Rick feeling like he hadn’t read Jeremy’s previous actions wrong still.

Rick didn’t really know what Jeremy’s whole deal was but things were possibly still in his favor. Maybe he really was in denial. Maybe Rick just had to wait this out for a while.

Maybe his weird little crush was a little less hopeless than last night would have indicated.

It was a good thing it was dark, Jeremy wouldn’t notice the smile grow on Rick’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i worked in my very important headcanon that trager was a pretty boy who aged like absolute shit, making this chapter a success


	7. A Threat and a Promise

A couple weeks have passed with little of note going on in Mount Massive, to the disappointment of everyone from the higher ups to the scientists.

The project slowly dragged along with little progress, even with Rick and Jeremy knowing more about it. You can only do so much with the knowledge they found, even if they knew what project Walrider was now there’s only so much you can do without power.

At the end of the day, that’s what they lacked. Despite being “second in command” Jeremy was quickly discovering that meant, mostly, do all the paperwork and shit that Harrison didn’t want to do.

And fuck if there wasn’t a lot of god awful, meaningless paperwork.

On threat of torture would be just about the only way you’d get Jeremy to admit it but Rick’s help was just about the only way he got through it. Workload wise and, augh, emotionally.

As time passed, and like I said Jeremy would be loathe to acknowledge it, him and Rick were becoming considerably closer friends. To the point where people were starting to make jokes, should they only ever see one of them alone. And when neither was around, the jokes were much more suggestive.

Jeremy didn’t know what to think about all this. It hadn’t taken long for Rick to return to hanging off him after being told not to. To his great shame, Jeremy had gotten lax with pushing him off. He was simply too persistent in his efforts to hang off him.

He might have taken a harder stance on it if Rick had persisted in coming onto him but aside from slightly raunchy jokes he wasn’t being propositioned again.

That moment was really burned into his mind, though. Rick holding his hand and looking at him like a wild dog in an all-you-can-eat barbeque buffet. Hungry and excited but slightly skittish. Unsure.

Frankly, Jeremy wondered if Trager thought it was going to happen, realistically. Did he think Jeremy was going to say yes? Take him back to his fancy, expensive apartment and, well, take him?

Cold and ignored in the corner was his initial instinct he’d had in the moment, to say yes.

He hated when that thought crawled back into the forefront of his mind. Clawing for his attention.

Even more he disliked how common it returned, a ghost with no way of being exorcised. Triggered randomly, from when he was alone to when Rick would practically throw himself at him, happily hanging off him while they walked out of Mount Massive.

Despite all this, once again he would never admit it, but he was very much enjoying Rick. As a friend. Exclusively that. Allegedly.

Besides, it’s not like people are talking about them too much. To be honest, they were a lot more concerned with the lack of progress on project Walrider. To Jeremy’s relief, people were much more preoccupied with pointed jabs at the frequently absent Harrison than a questionably close pair of coworkers.

It’s at nearly a halt, Harrison allowing less and less people by the actual engine. Leaving anyone not a scientist with zero access to it, making the lines of communication impossibly murky.

Harrison was, of course, trying to foist the blame onto Jeremy. A convenient scapegoat.

Whipping boy too, more than once this month Harrison had called him into his office to blame Jeremy for his own failures.

It was borderline creepy how much time Harrison spent harassing him. Near constantly, he’d be either in his office running over the same tired topics over and over again. If not that, calling Jeremy so much that he wasn’t able to get any work done.

Saying the same things over and over. Never anything new. No progress, just complaints that the same thing won’t work. You know what they say the definition of insanity is, right? Jeremy thought they should throw Harrison in with the loonies they were watching over.

This, of course, had made “drinks after work with Rick” a somewhat concerningly common occurrence. Not that Rick minded, in fact, he seemed ecstatic about this turn of events.

That was certainly the way it looked like this evening was going to be. Another round of required ass kissing while Harrison yelled at him, ending in Jeremy entering Rick’s office without knocking, door slamming against the wall. Rick banged his chair against the other wall behind him with a, “Jesus Christ, Jer, you want to kill me? Is this how it plays out? Heart attack?”

“Calm down,” Jeremy groaned, slamming the door behind him. Another jolt from Rick which Jeremy certainly didn’t care about, “You’re not going to have a heart attack.”

“You know coke and heart issues are connected, right? I intend to die doing a line off a hooker’s ass, don’t ruin that for me."

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Jeremy shrugged it off, “Look, I’ve been thinking about something…”

“Drinks, again?” Rick hoped, already cheerful again as he leaned on his hand, “You know I can never tell you ‘no.’”

“I know. You’re agreeable. I like that,” Jeremy said, jabbing a finger back towards his office, “I’m just thinking about a little project for tonight.”

Eyes lighting up, “A project for us? I’m listening.”

“Figured you’d like that,” Jeremy nodded, “So you and me know some details about this project from our snooping. I’m thinking maybe we just take home all we can and forming a plan without anyone else interfering. Just you and me, making a plan.”

“Sounds fun, getting tired of Harrison trying the same shit over and over again, then?”

“So fucking sick of it you can’t even begin to imagine.”

\- - -

Jeremy didn’t terribly like sitting in the sickly pink and purple 80’s themed apartment but he was touchy to say the least about letting people into his.

If you weren’t going to be naked on his bed at some point in the evening, he didn’t want you even in his living room. And despite Rick being more than eager to accommodate that requirement, Jeremy wasn’t biting.

So instead he was sitting here on Rick’s too cushy couch, laptop on his lap, ignoring Rick lazily lounging on his stomach next to him just as he had yesterday. Frequently peeking up over his laptop at him. Looking like the world’s creepiest teenage girl, in a study group with her crush.

Except high school study groups didn’t usually involve inhumane experiments. Or this much cheap Chinese food. Usually none of the former and only a moderate amount of the latter.

“Do you really think these small changes are gonna make a difference?”

“We need ‘em miserable right?” Rick proudly tapped on the screen, in the middle of the list, “You ever used single ply toilet paper, Jer? That’s god’s way of telling us he hates poor people.”

“Do you really think that’s enough, though? Doing petty shit like crappy toilet paper, off brand and less powerful medicine… finger paints? What the hell is cutting finger painting gonna do?”

“Water against rock, my friend,” Rick claimed, “Keep chipping away at them, little by little, until we’ve got a Grand Canyon of human misery.”

“I’ll have to trust you I guess. Especially since it looks like you’re going to have a little more free reign in this,” Jeremy admitted, looking over what they’d compiled so far, “Harrison’s too busy with being up my ass, nobody’s crawling up yours.”

“Sadly,” Rick sighed, ignoring the noise of disgust from Jeremy, “But yeah, people leave me alone. Almost too much.”

“Well, it’s going to help in this case,” Jeremy knew all too well that the average Mount Massive employee found Rick off putting at best, “The fact nobody interacts with you outside of replying to your memos means you can operate almost completely off the radar. Despite your rank.”

“Oh yeah, I love being ignored by everyone,” Rick rolled onto his back, still looking up at Jeremy, “But I guess, just this once, it’s in my favor.”

Jeremy ignored being gazed at lovingly, scrolling down the file on his computer, “I’m sure there’s plenty of ways you can tighten the belt, cut off lowkey things that Harrison won’t notice. I mean, the easiest way to fuck with the patients would be massive cuts, but if he finds out…”

“I can be discreet,” Rick claimed.

Looking at the bright pink shirt and pants, blue cardigan tossed over the back of the couch then at Rick, Jeremy looked skeptical at best.

Waving that away, Rick scoffed, “I’m like a magician. All the flash hides what I’m doing.”

“You do dress like one, literally,” Jeremy dodged the smack aimed at his arm.

“Better to stand out than to blend in.”

“Got any more teenage rebellion slogans for me?”

“Oh, an endless supply. You know I was a pain in the ass as a teenager. Probably still have them on t-shirts too. Everything still fits ‘cause I’m so svelte.”

Jeremy shuddered, “I don’t want to think about what you were like as a teenager.”

“Everything you’re picturing right now and worse!” Rick proudly claimed, patting his own chest, “Parents hated it, teachers hated it, and a fair share of the students grew to hate it too! Mostly exes. A lot of exes.”

“You really get around, don’t you?”

“Used to, used to. I guess my schtick isn’t as cute now that I’m getting older.”

“Yeah, usually if someone’s not married by now there’s a reason,” Jeremy went back to his work, “Refusal to give up the eighties, lack of respect for personal space, hair halfway to your ass-”

Rick rolled onto his stomach, pointing accusingly, “Hey, I’ll be in a pricey nursing home with my hair like this.”

“Hope male pattern baldness doesn’t run in your family.”

“Oh it does,” Rick grimaced, “I’m nothing if not stubborn though. Nobody likes a quitter.”

“That’ll be a good look,” Jeremy said, tone starting to brag as he dragged a hand through his own hair, “Meanwhile, I’ll have a full head forever. Not a bit of that in my family.”

“Is that winning personality why you’re still unmarried?” Rick jabbed, “We’ve covered that mine’s ‘cause I’m annoying. Is yours because you’re a dick? Did your legendarily dickish way of rejecting people get around? Make people afraid to show interest?”

“Hey, that’s the only time I’ve ever done something like that to someone.”

“That makes me feel better,” he replied sarcastically, “The only person you ever decided to publicly humiliate for the cardinal sin of finding you attractive.”

“When someone says they’re sorry you’re not allowed to hold it over their head, you know that right?”

“Technically you never said you’re sorry. You said you wanted to apologize then listed why it was fucked. Sorry never came out your mouth.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeremy grumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“That didn’t sound very sincere.”

“You want me to take it back?”

“There’s that winning personality again,” Rick grinned, clearly unphased, “You wanna stay here tonight?”

“If that’s you hitting on me again-”

“Relax, it’s just like two in the middle of the night.”

Looking up at the gaudy clock ticking away on the wall, Jeremy could see Rick was right. Fuck, had it really been that long since he got here?

But Jeremy just closed the laptop, “I don’t mind driving at night.”

His attempt at standing up thwarted by his belt being grabbed and jerking him back to the couch, Rick laughing, “C’mon, don’t be a fucking prude. The couch exists if you’re gonna be a baby about it. We’ll watch a movie, finish this take out, cuddle-”

Jeremy shot him a look.

“What, can’t appreciate jokes anymore?”

Sighing, Jeremy gave up, “Fine, fine, I’ll stay but if you try to make good on that snuggling threat I’ll kick your ass.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Rick dramatically dragged his finger over his chest, “I’ll grab you some pajamas.”

\- - -

Despite Rick not moving an inch he got what he wanted. Both had underestimated how tired they were, falling asleep mid-movie. Almost instantly, Jeremy had ended up with his head on Rick’s shoulder.

Of course, Rick could have easily pushed him off but he’d just smiled coyly and let Jeremy’s weight slowly push him down. Practically pinned by his sleeping friend, to his delight.

To his advantage, it was very obviously not his own handiwork. Even if he was getting what he wanted.

But by the time he woke up again, he was alone in his apartment. Sometimes it sucks being such a heavy sleeper.

Showing up far too late that day, he got started on that list. It was easy, Harrison was always telling him to reduce spending anyways, maybe the dumb old bastard would just think this was on his orders.

Within a week, patient amenities had been laid bare and project Walrider had started to slowly, slowly lurch forward.

The scientists were ecstatic, more than smart enough to figure out the sudden shift in the patient’s living conditions were the cause but unknowing of who had truly called for this. They, of course, assumed it was Harrison.

And, eager to suck up to their superior, they were very quick to compliment Harrison on his changes.

Jeremy was quietly filling out some mundane paperwork at his desk when Harrison barged in, face red as he stomped straight around to be face to face to Jeremy, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Blaire?!”

Playing dumb was probably not the best course of action but it’s the one Jeremy chose, “Filing some paperwork? What, do you want to watch me dot my ‘I’s and cross my ‘T’s now too?”

“You’re not stupid, don’t fucking pretend you are,” Harrison practically spat in his face, “You’ve been creeping around behind my back with Trager, going against what I’ve expressly told you not to do.”

“Look, we’re already seeing results! Why would you be angry about actually seeing some fucking results?!”

“You’re on thin fucking ice, kid, I’d suggest you play your cards a little more conservatively.”

“Harrison, it’s working. Why do you want to fuck with it?”

“It’s inhumane conditions, Blaire, you think I wanna deal with the fallout when one of those crazy fucks’ family gets involved?!”

Jeremy scoffed, “Nobody comes to visit these guys.”

That only enraged him further, “Just keep yourself and your pet poof in line, Blaire. Thin. Fucking. Ice.”

Stomping then a slam of the door that nearly knocked the frames off his wall.

Leaning back in his chair, Jeremy just barely restrained himself from chasing after Harrison and delivering a solid punch to his bulbous nose. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as he heard Harrison’s tirade continue across the hall.

That one ended much sooner, punctuated by the second slam of the door.

Jeremy waited, clock ticking away about five minutes before he reopened his eyes and stood up.

He didn’t knock before entering Rick’s office, making him flinch for a second in fear of it being Harrison’s return. Relaxing only when he realized it was Jeremy, whom he gave a kicked puppy look, “He’s making me reverse everything.”

Unsure, he watched Jeremy grab the chair on the other side of his desk and drag it over, less than a foot from him before sitting down and leaning in, “I want Harrison fucking gone, Rick. One way or another.”

“I’m amenable to helping,” Rick said, not even trying to be coy, “I’m also amenable to it being at any costs. I’d do anything for you.”

Jeremy didn’t even care that that was a barely veiled flirt, even raising the stakes himself albeit sounding downright enraged, “If you get that bastard fired I’ll kiss you right on the lips.”

“Could you sound a little happier about it?” Rick grinned mischievously, “Can barely tell if that’s a threat or a promise.”

“It’s a threat for him and a promise for you,” Jeremy stood up again, leaving the chair on the wrong side of the desk, “We’ll talk about it after work. Probably shouldn’t discuss things while we’re here.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes as Rick kicked his feet up on his desk, “Tonight after work? You can even fall asleep on my chest again if you’d like.”


	8. Too Many Promises

It reverted, all of it. Any semblance of progress that Jeremy and Rick had managed to initiate was destroyed as Harrison reversed all the changes they’d made. Project Walrider grinding to a screeching halt again.

Fortunately, Jeremy managed to dodge the blame though even though Harrison tried hard to make everyone working at Mount Massive blame him instead. Even going as far as to send out a memo erroneously attributing the changes to Jeremy.

But people had heard Harrison yelling at him and Rick. His rage, his downfall.

Despite being relieved by the truth circulating, Jeremy wasn’t surprised. With those bellowing screams, every single person in the administrative block probably heard him. What he’d yelled at Trager had been much more intimidating, making people oddly kinder towards Rick.

Rick was, of course, enjoying it greatly. Having his coworkers actually talk to him, almost gratefully, now that they knew he was the one who made things move forward at all.

Jeremy reaped the most rewards though. While everyone knew Trager had pulled the trigger, Blaire had given him the gun.

It was nice, for once, that the whispers about them weren’t about the questionable nature of their relationship and were instead about how they nearly saved the project.

If not for that meddling old man.

Harrison was hated now.

\- - -

Lunch with Rick always ended in him slowly, incrementally scooting his office chair closer only for Jeremy to push it away with his foot.

Never was he deterred though, always creeping forwards until he was practically in Jeremy’s lap. And the past couple weeks he’s become even more persistent with needing to be close.

Eyeballing him when he looked away, Jeremy wondered how seriously Rick was taking that promise of a kiss if he got Harrison fired. Wondered if he’d have to make good on that promise, he wasn’t one to make those to people he cared about just to break them.

Cared about. His brain just labelled Rick as someone Jeremy “cared about.”

A sudden, jerking shake of his head brought the daydreaming Rick to attention, “What was that? Are you a wet dog?”

Scratching at the back of his head, Jeremy shook his head more calmly, “Just a tickle.”

“You’re ticklish, good to know.”

“No it’s not, try to tickle me and I’ll punch you in the nose.”

Taking a bit of his salad, Rick smiled nonetheless, “Noted.”

Jeremy eyed him carefully as he moved the topic elsewhere, “So, got any ideas about Harrison?”

“Maybe,” Rick continued to grin, looking down into his barely picked over food, “I always have something up my sleeve but I don’t like to show my cards.”

“Because then people’ll know what was up your sleeve was a couple face cards?”

“Hey, you said I could do whatever I wanted to try and get Harrison fired so you’re not allowed to get mad at me when I’m trying to cheat.”

Jeremy sighed, “At least try not to get us fired in the process.”

“I know, that’s bullet point number one on my list of ‘things not to fuck up,’” Rick asserted confidently, “I walk a razor’s edge but I never cut myself.”

“If you say so, Rick.”

“I do! Just trust me, I’ve got something in the works.”

\- - -

Jeremy found himself oddly worried about whatever it was that Rick had brewing away, still offering nothing even as he continued to question him about it.

Nothing seemed to happen for another week although Rick became oddly scarce to Jeremy. Whatever he was doing, it seemed to involve actually interacting with people other than his solitary friend.

Guesses were the best thing Jeremy had, noting that whatever Rick was talking about to people…

He had a feeling Rick was the source of the rumors that kept cropping up surrounding surrounding Harrison. Of inept acts, questionably true. Of personal issues, claiming an affair, drug issues, drinking issues. Just anything that could undermine the man.

Ballsy of him, Jeremy thought, to claim someone else had a drug problem.

But Jeremy had no idea exactly how far Rick was willing to go with his false hypocrisy.

\- - -

It was only a couple more days until the fruits of Rick’s labor would be revealed.

Jeremy heard ripples before he saw the wave. Whispers about expensive cars pulling up to the front of the building, people recognizing the man who walked in, flanked by two others.

Murkoff higher ups, all three of them. Headed by Terrance Smith, a notoriously slimy higher up. Usually reeking of ‘creepy old man’ but today he looked particularly somber, weaselly appearance undercut by his mouth in a grim line.

This was, of course, only communicated to Jeremy by word of mouth. At least until he was called up into the main conference room. Then it was his turn to see it himself, at the very end of the day.

“Mr. Blaire,” Smith smiled smarmily, gesturing for Blaire to sit down near the end of the table with him, “Boy oh boy, do I have some news for you young man.”

Apparently, in private, he didn’t care if he looked serious or not. Almost gleeful until one of the other men coughed with a curt, “Sir.”

Sobering up, Smith sat up straight, “Right. Professionalism. Mr. Blaire, I believe we’ve managed to keep this information from getting out but things are going to be changing around here.”

He was very obviously pausing for dramatic affect, leaving Blaire to awkwardly ask, “How so?”

Sated, Smith continued, “Well, you see, we’ve fired Harrison for mishandling the Walrider project.”

“A bit of a formality,” one of the other men piped up.

“Considering he was arrested on drug charges,” the other grinned at this friend, “Enough pills in his car to down a small elephant.”

Smith was apparently a fan of having them as his back-up band to his gossip, eyes shining, “Yes, yes, of course. But HR said it’s better to ignore that to make the company look good. Rather have a weak link than admit to one of our employees being an addict, right?”

The elbow in Blaire’s side was pointedly urging him to agree. At least this higher up douchebag seemed to like him, leaving him feeling much better about being forced to agree, “Of course, rather someone be incompetent than inhibited.”

“Good boy,” the old man shook his finger at him with a smile, “I’m going to like having you being in charge instead. You seem like a go-getter. Some old farts like me don’t like having you kids take over but I saw the more the merrier.”

Blaire ignored the fact that he was well beyond what a normal person could call a ‘kid’, mostly because he was too busy letting his face crack into a grin, “You mean?”

“Of course you’re taking his position, you’re second in command and from some rumors that’ve been tickling my ears… well, I think you’ve already got a plan in place, don’t you, kid?”

So what he and Rick had been doing had already seeped into the books of the higher ups, he nodded with a smile, “I absolutely do, sir.”

“Then why don’t you go and start moving yourself into your new office? Me and the boys have to get going anyways, paperwork took so much longer than we thought it would today.”

At that Smith stood up, his two cronies bouncing up on his command. Each giving Blaire a handshake in turn as they passed him, exiting the room and heading towards the exit in a line. Damn, Blaire kinda wished he had a couple of yes-men like that. Maybe now he could.

Splitting in the opposite direction, Blaire headed deeper into Mount Massive as he made a beeline for what had been Harrison’s office. Wide grin plastered on his face only bolstered by coworkers congratulating him as he passed. It was like something out of a movie.

Swinging open the door he saw there was certainly someone else whose general theatrical nature was only amplifying that feeling. Dramatically draped across the desk, long legs dangling off the end, Rick had even gone to the trouble of getting a dethorned rose to hold in his mouth.

If Jeremy had had any doubt in his mind that all of this was Rick’s doing, they would have dissipated then as the scrawny man dropped the rose to roll onto his stomach, kick up and leg, and gloat, “Sooo, Mr. New-Head-Of-Mount-Massive, welcome to your new office. I considered waiting naked but uh, mildly concerned someone might try to come in an steal the chair.”

Jeremy couldn’t stop the crooked smile on his face, “Rick, you sneaky little son of a bitch.”

Pushing himself up and flipping a leg over the other with a big smile, Rick flicked his ponytail back over his shoulder, “Told you I’d do it, wasn’t even that hard. Glue holding him in place was already crumbling just had to push a bi-”

Rick yelped in surprise as the front of his gaudy blue zebra shirt was grabbed roughly, jekring him forward into easily the most painful kiss of his life.

He wasn’t complaining, though, throwing his arms around Jeremy’s neck so tight it was more of a vice grip than a hug. Getting dragged off the desk when he refused to let go as Jeremy tried to stand upright again.

“You actually kept your promise,” Rick cooed, dangling off Jeremy happily, stupid grin on his face. Even happier about the fact Jeremy’s arms were around his waist, keeping him up.

Jeremy looked dazed to say the least just nodding dumbly in reply, seemingly in shock from his own actions. But it had lodged something free in his mind, something that was willing to let Rick lean in and steal another kiss.

“So, Jer…” Rick lecherously pressed against him, “Wanna take me home tonight?”

Tensing even more at that, for a second Rick wondered if he should start backpedaling into that being a joke but slowly, almost so slow he couldn’t tell, Jeremy nodded.

\- - -

When Jeremy had bought an apartment with a mirrored ceiling, he’d assumed that would be sexy and fun but as he lay there, awake and staring up at his own reflection he was regretting that choice greatly.

Shame was his primary emotion right now, crushing down anything positive he could be feeling after spending a night with Rick. Physically.

Painfully he smacked a hand over his own eye at that, growling more at himself than anything.

He’d done it, he’d had sex with another man.

Second hand landed on his face, same as first, both painfully grinding into his eyes as he tried to decide what that meant. For him. For Rick. For them.

Despite shame trying to claw its way out of his skull to eat him whole somehow he couldn’t feel regret for what he’d done. And he knew with absolute certainty, as mortified as it made him, that he wanted it to happen again. On a regular basis, which he knew it absolutely could. Rick had been almost obnoxiously excited about the whole affair, before, during and after.

That was the first step, he supposed, knowing that this was something he’d like to continue to happen.

The second he lowered his hands, resting them on his chest, he found his eyes locked onto his own in the mirror above again. Glaringly examining the room.

His apartment and everything within it was uncomfortably minimalistic. Everything black and silver, any aberrations standing out glaring. Much like everything else in his life he preferred everything simple and functional.

It only made the flashes of purple and blue stand out more. Discarded clothing. Electric blue zebra print button up. Bright purple jacket. Pants, also blue, but rather than a sensible blue jean they were almost highlighter bright. A single golden earring left on his bedside table with a purple hair tie circling it.

This wasn’t something fun and casual. Jeremy was certain that Rick was the type to settle in for the long haul, sometimes even angrily referring to people who had only been interested in casual dating as ‘goddamn quitters.’

Jesus, what if the crazy asshole wanted to marry him now?

Alright, Jer, you’re getting ahead of yourself there. Slowing down a bit, was he okay with that as well?

He hated that his heart beat a bit happier at the idea.

So that was a thing. Okay with physical. Okay with emotional.

But the biggest issue wouldn’t be internal. Internally, he was apparently okay with that even though it twisted in his gut like a sick animal.

It was external. Jeremy knew people people already said and they had nothing to go off other than the two of them being close. And Rick was a showman, hell, he’d tell the first ten people he’d greet on Monday that the two of them were an item just for the hell of it.

If there’s one thing Jeremy was certain of, it was exactly how unprogressive the general workbase was. The way they talked, the words they used. All they had were rumors of Rick’s… inclinations and he was pretty openly treated like a joke. There was at least one security guard who’d been outed. Jeremy didn’t know who it was, the name never uttered seemingly out of fear, but plenty of replacements for it. Faggot, queer, the most popular.

Jeremy was their hero right now but there was no way in fucking hell that they wouldn’t turn on him the second the word he was romantically involved with Rick got around.

He’d just made it as the head of Mount Massive and he, of course, had even higher ambitions.

This would… hold him back.

Nobody can know.

He looked towards the door, the noise beyond it. Rick was definitely still here and Jeremy felt secure in his reasonable guess that the noises outside there were his… boyfriend? making them breakfast.

A plan clicked in his mind though, a way to suppress Rick from loudly and obnoxiously kicking open the doors to Mount Massive and announcing it to the masses.

Breaking eye contact with himself he rolled out of bed, pausing only to snag the abandoned boxers and pull them on before walking out of the bedroom.

He could hear Rick before he could see him, happily singing some wordless, off tune song to himself. The sound of something scraping against what was probably a pan, the smell of eggs betraying what he was making.

There were already a few things on the table waiting for him. Two glasses of orange juice, two pieces of toast each, a plate of bacon between them. Don’t know how he’d slept through all that.

Turning the corner fully he could see Rick himself, clad only in an apron, happily unaware of being watched.

Jeremy stood there for a second before uncertainly pulling out one of the chairs and sitting on it with a groggy, “Morning.”

But Rick wasn’t going to let this be casual, not even for a second. Perking up even more once he realized he wasn’t alone, moving the pan of eggs to a burner that was off so he could practically glide over to Jeremy and slide onto his lap. Already kissing his cheek before he could even react with a singsong, “Morning!” of his own in reply.

Christ, Rick’s already been domesticated into “wife mode.”

Jeremy didn’t even begin to know how to behave in this situation, all but naked man in his lap looking downright ready to don a wedding dress and start calling him ‘darling.’

But he had to react, his joke coming off slightly robotic, “Just an apron? Really? What porn exactly are you imitating?”

“Lonely Housewives 3: Scramble Her Eggs. From the 80’s. A classic.”

Jeremy was slightly unnerved by how quickly and genuinely Rick had an answer to that, not even doubting that he was referring to a bonafide, actual porn.

“So it takes one night to make a housewife out of Richard Trager?”

Even though he still sounded strained, Rick was laughing anyways as he hopped back up to resume cooking, “I’m just a real romantic, Jer.”

“This is a thing now, huh? Got what you wanted.”

Rick shot him a smile over his shoulder, “I usually do.”

Jeremy paused for a split second as Rick moved the pan back over the fire before beginning to enact his plan, “We need to keep this on the downlow though.”

Rick’s head jerked back quickly, face sharply set into a glare that nearly sent Jeremy running from his own apartment as he nearly hissed, “And why the fuck would we do that? Exactly?”

“You just put a shitload of drugs into a guy’s car to get him fired,” Jeremy started on the tiny speech he’d prepared in his head, “Don’t you think it’d be excruciatingly suspicious to immediately be on the arm of the person replacing him, especially considering the fact everyone knows about your drug problems. It’s already suspicious enough.”

“Those were pills, I don’t do pills,” Rick was on the defense, gripping the pan hard enough to whiten his knuckles, “And we’re already always together. You’re not stupid, I wouldn’t like you if you were, you know what they say about us. How would this be any different?”

“It’s attention,” Jeremy said, pushing himself up to begin approaching the caged animal snarling at him, “If we do anything on the record, you know those rumors are going to get louder and louder. If we wait a while, let the place calm down, let everything get normal, you don’t want something bad to happen, do you?”

“Like what?” Rick replied, still warily eyeing Jeremy as he put a hand on his upper arm.

“Like one or both of us getting our asses hauled to jail,” Jeremy replied, putting on his best sympathetic face, “And it’d most likely be you, Rick. Unless you try to pin it on me too, then we both go to jail.”

“Hey, if we both go I can be your prison bitch.”

“Or, and hear me out, we can keep our mouths shut and nobody goes to jail and you can just be my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. That word immediately diffused Rick, immediately melting back into the starry eyed minx he’d been been a mere minute ago. Looking down, looking up, smiling, “Alright, just to keep us out of jail. Not forever though, right?”

Jeremy lied through his teeth, “As soon as the heat’s off, you can obnoxiously tell everyone to your heart’s content.”

He was nearly knocked to the kitchen floor by the force of Rick hugging him, planting another kiss on his lips.


	9. Plus One, Negative One

Jeremy didn’t know if it was more or less suspicious to let Rick hang off him like he usually did as they walked into work.

He hoped no one had seen them come from the same car. Rick had talked him into it, stop by home only for him to change his clothes, drive to work together. His hand on Jeremy’s thigh the entire drive.

Frankly, he’d been surprised there hadn’t been any dirty offers but it almost seemed like Rick was just enjoying the silence.

Apparently, he IS, in fact, capable of that. It was… nice.

Jeremy supposed he didn’t have any right or reason to be cautious about having emotions. In his mind, at least. Considering he was going through with all of this.

Rick had smiled when Jeremy put his hand over his.

People had always stared at them when they entered, it’s pretty hard to ignore Rick when he walks in the room. Scanning the faces of those they passed, Jeremy didn’t get the feeling people felt like today was any different.

Each just happy to see their new leader, their feelings towards Rick also oddly elevated. He had a feeling that half might be a bit more… temporary. 

Jeremy wanted his half to stay alive and well. Today would hopefully cement this. He was having Rick reimplement all their changes to allow Project Walrider to start moving forward again. Just keep that up, he’ll stay in their good graces.

Rick was being surprisingly obedient about not letting on that they were together. Just about the only step over the lines was a tight squeeze of his hand as they parted ways to their respective offices. That was alright though. No one else was around.

It was weird, no longer being in the office right across from Rick but Harrison had had some very nice accomodations. Easily twice as big, nice chair, huge desk.

His esoteric looking desk toys were already moved in here too, the only decoration besides a name plaque. He never touches said toys but is weirdly possessive of them, not liking it when someone else plays with them. Rick, of course, is undaunted by Jeremy’s glares and always fucks with them whenever allowed inside his office. He doubted that would change with a new location.

When he heard a knock on his door, mere minutes after him going in, he briefly wondered if it was Rick before remembering that the man never knocks.

“Come in,” he said, only for one of the meek interns to slink in, hand him an envelope, and disappear again.

Sliding it open with his thumb he pulled out a notice from corporate.

A party for his promotion. Tight knit gathering, no plus ones. Secluded VIP room in the same place he’d met Rick. Apparently Murkoff as a Corporation had a fondness for that place.

His face lit up, he’d heard about these old boy styled parties thrown by the higher ups.

He was in it now, the inner circle.

No knocking, his door opened again. Rick this time, still victorious, “So, how you enjoying your new office? Wanna push me over your desk again?”

“Don’t hold your breath for that,” Jeremy said, folding the note and setting it on his desk, “Too risky.”

He tried to smack his hand down on the letter again but Rick had already snatched it away and flicked it open with a smile, “Oh and they’re throwing you a party too? That’ll be fun.”

His smile faded of its own accord as he read the rest. Clearly disappointed.

Taking it back, Jeremy stuffed it in a drawer, “Yeah, no plus ones. Sorry.”

Watching Rick go through a journey in mind, Jeremy was half ready to talk him down from some hare brained scheme but he relaxed after a bit. Disappointed but offering up, “Well… you’ll owe me one, okay? Just make me your default plus one otherwise and we’ll call it even.”

“Implying I wouldn’t take you otherwise?”

“Ensuring you don’t leave me behind.”

\- - -

Straightening his tie, Jeremy smiled experimentally in the mirrored wall outside the room. It was a little more genuine than his usual one, he was a bit more giddy than he should be though. Needed to look pleasant but professional.

Fixing his hair one last time, Jeremy pushed the door open to a brief accolade. Just for a second before the party went back to drinking and talking among themselves. It was what he suspected. More of a reason to wine and dine on company dime than caring about him personally. He was alright with that, he was still here in the inner circle nonetheless.

He recognized about half of the people in the room but there seemed to be a lot he didn’t know. Educated guess, considering a few were women hanging off coworker’s arms, that the ones he didn’t recognize were guests of the invited. The most recent person he’d met was Terrance Smith though, still flanked by his two cronies.

The old man was upon him in a second, grabbing at his hand, “Blaire! You made it.”

He wasn’t entirely sure if he should laugh or not but he gambled and won as the old man’s eyes twinkled at the bark of laughter, “I mean, the party’s for me, right?”

“You’d be surprised, kid,” Smith laughed, hand on Jeremy’s shoulder steering him through the crowd, “Realized I never introduced my boys to you, did I?”

It was downright tweedle dee and tweedle dum how they flanked Jeremy on both sides, hands extended. Awkwardly, he shook each in turn as they introduced themselves.

“Eric Barnes,” the taller, thinner one.

“Zack West,” the shorter, more muscular one.

Both of them horribly smarmy, something about them reminding him of-

Smith cut in, smacking both of the men on the backs, “My two favorite grandsons! I know what you’re thinking- I’m too young to be a grandpa but my girls married well while they were still young. Mindy’s a doctor, Petunia’s a lawyer but their boys wanted to work with their pawpaw.”

He patted his own chest proudly, the grandsons nodding along pleasantly but their eyes still greedily scanned the room. Smarmy, just like their grandpa.

“Look at me, I’m babbling,” Smith cackled, “Today’s about you. Let me get everyone’s attention.”

Sticking his fingers in his mouth, the sharp whistle nearly made a few men drop their glasses.

“Alright, you kids know why we’re here but let’s take a moment for the boy, shall we?” Smith raised his glass, “To Blaire! Our savior of Mount Massive and Project Walrider!”

It would be a lie to pretend Blaire didn’t enjoy hearing glasses clink together for him, a small cheer. Their attention wasn’t held for long again, they once again returned to partying. Smith just laughed, “Booze hounds, barely even got ‘em to look up. You’re doin’ good though, kid. One sec, see an old boy I need to hassle.”

With that Smith took his leave but surprisingly his grandsons stayed around. Possibly because Blaire was the only person in the room even vaguely in their age range. Give or take a decade. 

Eric grabbed a drink and shoved it into Jeremy’s hands, “We all know about what you’d been doing for the project before Harrison blocked it.”

Zack cut in, “Stupid old man. All he had to do was keep his maw shut for a few more years. Could have retired with a shitload of cash.”

Well, if Rick wasn’t here Jeremy figured he might as well give his boyfriend credit where credit was due. Maybe get him an invite next time. Jeremy smiled, “I can’t pretend I didn’t have any help with the Project Walrider situation. Ri-, er, Trager helped me figure out and organize the cuts.”

A leery sneer twisted Zack’s face, “What, are you friends with that tweaked out freak?”

“I mean, the man’s good at what he does,” Eric cut in, “But shit, I’ve been avoiding him at parties since Grandpa got us these jobs.”

“He’s a creep,” Zack agreed, “Always afraid of being alone with the guy, everyone knows he’s…”

In unison, the two did a limp wrist motion at each other before laughing at their very hilarious and not at all demeaning joke. Cheerfully oblivious to exactly how intimately Jeremy and Rick were involved and the lip just slightly snarled at them.

Eric playfully punched Jeremy in the arm with a grin that wasn’t returned, “Just take the credit, Mr. Blaire. Don’t get involved with Trager. Dude’s nothing but drugs and debauchery.”

“Hell, we’re being nice about him,” Zack jerked his head towards his grandpa in the distance, “You should hear what the old fucks say about him. We’re young. We’re progressive.”

Before Jeremy could refute that extremely incorrect statement, Smith called them over, “Zack! Eric! Come say hello to Peters, you kids remember Peters, right?”

It was a great mercy to be left alone. Drifting off to the side, Jeremy just grabbed some food and downed a few drinks. Lost in thought. God, it was a good thing he hadn’t been allowed a plus one. He didn’t know if the reason he felt that was concern for his own standing or not wanting Rick to be around these assholes. Might be a little bit of both.

But plus ones… While Jeremy was left alone for most of the rest of the party, only having people come up to introduce themselves to him until the very end as he tried to make his way out unnoticed.

Smith grabbed him near the end, grinning at him with a nudge, “Just so you know, you’re invited to these from now on. Also, feel free to bring someone from now on. Just like to have people’s first party be just them. Plus, I’m the one who runs these and I never say no to having another pretty young lady walking around.”

The elbow in his side, disgusted Jeremy but he forced a smile, “I’ll think about it, I’m a bit of a lone wolf.”

“Lone wolf still needs to howl,” Smith’s eye gleamed, a pit of disgust growing in Jeremy’s stomach as the old man leered and elbowed him again and harder, “I’m sure you’re smart enough to know what I mean, kid.”

“I’ll think about it, Smith,” Jeremy said, ready to say anything to get the dirty old man off him.

“Either way lookin’ forward to see more of you, kid.”

One more uncomfortable nudge and the old man disappeared into the crowd, presumably to find his grandsons.

Eyeing the drinks table, off to the side and unmanned, Jeremy casually walked up and grabbed one of the unopened bottles of wine. Absconding from the party completely unnoticed.

\- - -

Lights whipped past him as the taxi he’d called drove him along the empty roads.

It was late, even though he’d left the party before it was done. But he’d been uncomfortable and he felt like it was rightly so.

So, Rick may be a small time hero in Mount Massive but Murkoff at large… if Zack and Eric were to be believed, nobody there was a Rick fan. And tweedle dee and tweedle dumbass certainly didn’t seem smart enough to play mind games.

And that plus one… Smith said he had one from now on and, of course, both his gut instinct and earlier promise told him to bring Rick. Well, he didn’t promise. Rick had just asked him for it. Had the two idiots not said anything he would have brought Rick each and every time. Let the man hang off him like the arm candy he fancied himself as.

That would have been dangerous anyways as, if Smith’s comments were to be believed, people mostly brought their significant other. Between that and being clung to the entire night, everyone would surely figure it out.

And If Zack and Eric were really the least derogatory about certain other aspects of Rick’s… lifestyle…

He can’t let Rick know that he has a standing invitation for a plus one, he just can’t.

The back of his brain cut in to remind him that he, in fact, was the same way. Except he had no history in it and blended in better. Looked like a normal guy, not a caricature of an aging 80’s boy toy.

Whenever he described Rick in his mind it only made him more aware of how he was the absolute last type of person Jeremy would have imagined himself with. He supposed, deep down, he’d known he liked men as well but god, he’d pictured himself with someone much more put together. Classy. Like himself.

But somehow, it was Rick who occupied his thoughts.

The bottle of wine remained unopened at his side. He may be a bit upset by the events of the evening but he wasn’t about to look like a sloppy lush to the poor chucklefuck that was driving him home.

It was tempting though, tapping a finger against the side. But he could wait until he got home.

Or… maybe he’d be willing to wait just a bit longer.

Leaning forward, he tapped the driver on the shoulder and gave him a different address.

\- - -

Why Do Birds Suddenly Appear chimed as Jeremy pressed the button. Somehow, it was unsurprising to Jeremy that Rick would have a novelty doorbell based on a Simpsons episode. That rung true to his personality.

For a second he heard nothing but eventually the sound of angry footsteps and the door flying open.

To say Rick looked haggard would be an understatement, woken up abruptly from a deep sleep. The sloppily tied and half falling off neon pink cheetah print robe revealing too much, up to and including the fact that the man probably slept naked on the reg. Also rung true to his personality.

For a groggy couple seconds Rick looked irritated until he realized who it was who had the unbelievable audacity to interrupt his beauty sleep, softening into amused confusion, “Jer? What, can’t sleep without me already?”

“Ditched the party,” Jeremy replied, holding up the bottle of wine and wiggling it, “I’m more of a one-on-one guy anyways.”

“So you missed me,” Rick crowed, draping himself against the doorway with a smirk, “Or is the wine a bribe to get me to accept this blatant booty call and make you breakfast in the morning again?”

“Can’t it be both?” Jeremy nodded towards him with a smile.

Grabbing his tie, Rick cheerfully pulled Jeremy into the apartment with a singsong chirp, “Oh it can be. It absolutely can be.”


	10. Going Hogwild

It turned out that it was incredibly easy for Jeremy to lie to Rick as engaging him in a relationship seemed to make him almost alarmingly trusting.

Rick was more than happy to let Jeremy go to parties by himself especially as Jeremy had made a real habit of stopping by his apartment afterwards. Usually with a gift from the party, he’d gotten stealing alcohol and food from the parties down to a science.

Not that it was terribly hard. Food was a little bit harder but honestly if you put anything on the side table by the door you could take it no problem.

Each and every time Jeremy showed up afterwards with the gifts he expected Rick to start asking when he can go too but it had yet to come up. They’re just get drunk, eat the food, sleep together, free breakfast in the morning.

The only thing Rick didn’t seem wholly complacent in was being more open about being together.

After a couple months, Rick’s popularity went right back to where it had been before but Jeremy was still widely revered as Project Walrider continued to move forward at a steady pace. If Jeremy had had any inclination to honor his promise that they’d be open their relationship eventually that closed it firmly shut.

Despite how unwilling Jeremy was to compromise on telling people about them being together he was honestly, truly enjoying it. Being together, I mean.

Perhaps that was part of the reason why Rick wasn’t fighting too hard about it, enjoying the honeymoon period too much. Too easy to get Jeremy to come home with him, go out on dates, hell even going on drunken all-night benders on the weekend like their first night together.

More and more time was being spent together to the point where they’d started leaving clothes at each other’s houses. Just in case they had work the next day and wanted to stay over.

Each had some caveat they didn’t enjoy about each other. Rick didn’t like Jeremy’s insistence on keeping it quiet, Jeremy didn’t like the cocaine. Even though Rick had laid off it a bit since they’d gotten together. Both of which are honestly pretty valid reasons to be angry at your significant other.

It was a little fucked but despite the lies and drugs this was honestly the happiest Jeremy had ever been in a relationship.

People talked, of course, same as always, but he was ignoring it for now. Particularly right now as Rick sat on his desk, playfully running a foot up and down Jeremy’s leg as he tapped away on his laptop, “Sooo, something exciting might go down today.”

“That your new way of telling me you want me to take you home tonight?”

“No, but I mean, I want that now too.”

Jeremy rested his chin on his fist, “You’re spoiled. What’s happening today then?”

“You remember that big fucker from your first day? The guard I got to be our personal chauffeur on the tour? Chris Walker?”

“Yeah, what about him?” Jeremy asked, seriously and somewhat fearfully hoping Rick wasn’t angling at a threesome.

“Guy’s been actin’ real weird lately, the doctors have been keeping close tabs on him but keeping it quiet. Hell, I only found out because I caught some little fish whispering about it and pressured them into telling me.”

“Not sure what you’re angling at, Rick.”

“Ha! Angling. Fish pun,” Rick grinned, “Anyhoo, they’ve been waiting for something to happen so they can get him involuntarily committed. You know what that means!”

“Do I? Or do YOU know and you’re assuming I’m capable of reading your mind?”

“Nah, if you were capable of reading my mind you wouldn’t be able to make it through the day,” Rick leaned in forwards him with a leer, “Mostly because of the absolutely filthy, dirty thoughts but probably partially out of concern for my well being too.”

“Yeah, I get it, sex and nightmares are the only thing you have going up there but still, what are you talking about?”

“Project Walrider,” Rick tapped him on the nose with a grin.

Jeremy picked that up instantly, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied grin, “Oh, they wanna put him in there. But if he’s not a patient or has any history-”

“Jer, the man did multiple tours in Afghanistan. There’s no way he hasn’t seen things that would make a normal man fold. Doc’s’re saying it’s some pretty severe PTSD that the big fuck’s seriously repressed. Especially now that he’s getting a lot more hostile lately, erratic.”

“Well, if they’re waiting for him to do something what’s so special about today?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s taking too long to break and turns out the guy doesn’t have any living family, significant others, friends, anything. So they’re just gonna commit him and let nature take its course.”

“And this is exciting why?”

At this, Rick looked giddy, “C’mon, Jer, don’t be stupid! You think that huge motherfucker is going to go quietly? The doctors even got a tranq gun! Don’t tell me you don’t wanna see that fight, I don’t think our relationship could take the hit.”

“Alright, you got me, that does sound pretty fun,” Jeremy nodded, “But that kind of dange- you know what I’m just now remembering the fact you do hard drugs.”

“Yuhp, danger means nothing to me so unless you want me to go all alone…’

“Fine, fine, we’ll go watch.”

\- - -

Somehow, two scientists and three fellow security guards didn’t seem to be enough to try and take down Chris Walker. Jeremy supposed he and Rick were two extra people but he’d never been in a fight in his life and Rick was… well, Rick was Rick.

They’d waited until the end of the day to do this, hoping that a long day of work would have tired Chris out a little. But if anything the man just looked angrier.

Despite his evident annoyance, Chris nodded politely as he tried to pass by them.

One of the other guards got him to stop moving just by grabbing his arm. Both politeness and curiosity getting the better of him. But both of those turned into nothing but rage as the scientist started to read off the standard involuntary commitment procedures to him.

Initially he just shrugged it off, growling at them to ‘fuck off’ before continuing to stomp away. Either not taking this seriously or intending to leave on the premise of ‘you have nothing you can say that legally makes me eligible to be involuntarily committed.’ Or more realistically, both.

He didn’t take it seriously right up until he heard the gun being loaded. Like a switch, Chris flipped the second he caught the sight of the gun in his periphery.

They had completely underestimated Chris’s strength.

With absolutely alarming ease, Rick and Jeremy watched the behemoth easily pick up one of the other guards one handed and throw him like a ragdoll. Easily fifteen feet.

Rolling, the tossed man managed to flip around and get his legs under him as he landed. For a second he looked between his colleagues and Chris already huffing in a rage as he grabbed one of the tranq gun wielding scientists and lifted him up. In another second that guard made his choice.

The other two security guards watched him bolt away, looking at each other before each grabbed one of Chris’s arms and tried to get his hands off the panicking scientist.

It was absolutely not working.

Neither was the tranq dart sticking out of Chris’s leg.

Rick was frozen, watching the spectacle with a smile on his face but Jeremy was rather keen on the idea of leaving. Tight grip on Rick’s arm, starting to pull him away as he hissed in a whisper to him, “We’re leaving. Now.”

But as Chris threw the scientist into the wall and he dropped to the ground in an unmoving pile, Rick resisted, “It’s just getting good, Jer!”

Not whispering. Loud, like he always is.

Attention grabbing. Except this time the last thing you wanted was the beginning-to-rampage giant to have you in his sights.

Rick sobered up for once as Chris’s eyes locked onto his, remembering that he and Jeremy were, in fact, higher ups in the company trying to wrongfully imprison this man for illegal experimentation.

He was mostly looking behind Rick though, aiming a little higher on the ladder as he easily shrugged off the two other security guards, slamming them into the wall as well, and approached them. More specifically Jeremy. A better… hostage? Neither of them was terribly sure what he was intending to do once he grabbed Jeremy but-

When he swiped at them, right at neck level, he didn’t catch Jeremy though.

Rick wasn’t sure what his shoulder hit that sent him falling forward but he didn’t exactly have time to ponder that as he was lifted off the ground by his neck. He was tall enough to land some decent kicks on Chris but the man was completely unphased by them.

There was still one scientist standing though and thankfully this one had some pretty good aim.

Two darts, directly into Chris’s neck. Immediately Rick felt Chris’s grip loosen as his eyes started to lose focus.

The force at which Chris was able to throw Rick was still nothing to sneeze at as he slammed into the floor, immediately knocking the breath out of him. Ignored by the scientists and guards as they got back up to deal with the more pressing issue of ‘groggy giant.’

Only Jeremy came to his side, crouching next to him and helping him sit up, “Rick, fuck, are you okay?!”

Rick was only able to nod slowly, still gasping, “Just… kno… ck… ed… w-wind… out…”

This was, of course, ignoring how incredibly freaked out he was. There’s more than one way to not be okay. But Rick was already remedying that as he threw an arm around Jeremy and pulled him down into a tight hug, burying his face into his neck. Other hand going up through Jeremy’s hair, holding his head firmly in place.

Jeremy didn’t realize that the scientist who shot was staring at them as he pulled Rick practically onto his lap to let him catch his breath again.

\- - -

There were only two things anyone spoke of for the next two weeks. Chris’s detainment and the fact Jeremy and Rick were definitely, definitely boning.

That scientist had, of course, gone on to tell all the other scientists, who had told their supervisors, who had told the office underlings, who had told the middlemen who had told the upper management, who had told the Murkoff main corporation, who had not liked the implications of what they heard.

Jeremy wasn’t stupid, he knew people were talking and he knew Rick was listening. Happily.

Rick’d been more chipper lately, enjoying the fact all the rumors about him were positive. In his mind, at least, he thought they were. About him being involved with his handsome superior whomst he is actually in a happy relationship with. It’s just perfect.

It had made him even more unambiguously loving towards Jeremy who was… standoffish about the at-work affection to say the very least. Shoving and shrugging Rick off to say the worst.

Rick was too cheery about this to be affected, leaning on Jeremy’s arm as he ate his lunch only to be shrugged off. He did little more than pout though, “Well aren’t you precious, I can’t even lean on your arm.”

“People are talking too much, Rick,” Jeremy grumbled into his half eaten sandwich, “That whole Chris situation-”

“Oh that? That I liked.”

“What, getting picked up by your neck is your kink? Because, hate to disappoint, I don’t think I can pick you up one handed.”

Rick appreciated the dirty joke with a snicker, “No, no, not that. I mean, we can TRY but I don’t think you’re picking me up like that anytime soon either. I mean you pulling me onto your lap, comforting me. It was cute. I’m not used to people caring about me.”

As annoyed as Jeremy was with the fallout of that event, he had enjoyed looking like the hero in that situation, “Well, get used to it. Kinda liked it myself.”

“Could have fooled me with how much you push me off of you. Everyone already knows-”

“They don’t know, they think they know.”

“No offense but if I watched one coworker lovingly cradle the other… well anyone with half a brain would as-”

Jeremy cut it short, relying on Rick’s extraordinarily short attention span as he pushed his ponytail out of the way to look at his neck, “Your bruise is starting to fade.”

“Yeah, left one hell of a mark,” Rick rubbed at it with a grimace, “Still tender. But unless something else happens to it, I should be fine. I mean, it you wanna take me up on that offer…”

“I’ve started some shit now, haven’t I? Or should I thank Chris for this? Because you’re not going to be happy until I throttle you now, right?”

“Hey, never said this was new. Now it’s just an open invitation instead of a secret one.”

Jeremy dropped his sandwich in disgust, “God, what else are you into? What am I going to be subjected to?”

“I try not to unload the whole kit and caboodle on someone at once. Don’t wanna scare you off.”

“Good to know I’ve got weird shit on the horizon.”

“You know what, speaking of weird shit… I’ve been trying to figure out what I hit my shoulder on.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, “What are you talking about?”

“When Chris was coming at us,” Rick said, tapping his left shoulder, “I knocked into something and tripped forward. But we were in a hallway, what could I have backed up into…”

Blanching, Jeremy knew the answer and he knew it wasn’t an answer he could give.

He had pushed Rick in front of himself.

He’d let Chris grab Rick instead.

Jeremy was a quick liar though, “Some jackass left a door open, I just narrowly avoided it myself.”

“I guess,” Rick rubbed his shoulder further, “Didn’t feel hard enough… ah, what am I saying it happened so fast. Door makes sense.”

Rick made another attempt to cuddle up to Jeremy but was shoved off almost hard enough to send him toppling to the ground as there was a sharp knock at the door. Pushing Rick’s chair away from himself with his foot, Jeremy called out, “Come in.”

As the Murkoff high up walked in, he looked at Rick glaring daggers at Jeremy before getting right to business, “Mr. Blaire, Mr. Trager, good, you’re together. Makes my job easier.”

The two men looked at each other warily before Jeremy answered, “And you are…”

“Randy Thompson, Murkoff HR,” Thompson said, pulling over the chair in front of Jeremy’s desk and sitting down, “I just need to talk to you two about what happened last week…”

Jumping the gun, Jeremy started making excuses, “Mr. Walker refused to go quietly, there was-”

“No, no, no, this isn’t about Walker,” Thompson waved it off, “The whole Walker situation has already been comfortably brushed under the rug. I’m talking about you two.”

“What about us?” Jeremy scrutinized the now intruder.

“No need to get defensive Mr. Blaire, we at Murkoff just like to… keep things above board. I’m sure a man of your position has read our company policies. There is certain paperwork when it comes to interpersonal relationships in the workspace.”

Playing dumb, Jeremy ignored the look Rick was giving him as he answered, “I don’t get what you’re angling at, Mr. Thompson.”

The look Thompson gave him was condescending, “Mr. Blaire, there’s been rumors of you and Mr. Trager being involved for a while now. The Walker event gave those rumors some credibility. I’d really like to get this paperwork taken care of to keep Murkoff free from any liability.”

Rick finally spoke up after being irritatedly silent since Thompson walked in, “Well, Mr. Thompson-”

Painful pressure on his leg made him freeze, looking down without looking down he could see Jeremy’s hand gripping his thigh roughly. A warning that went unseen by Thompson on the other side of the desk.

Successfully hiding his grimace, Rick spoke through the stiff anger nearly paralyzing his jaw as Jeremy released his leg, “It’s just a rumor. Been dealing with those all my life. I’m aware I’m a bit of an… eccentric.”

Rick gestured to his clothes. Obnoxious as always. Barely buttoned pink shirt shirt with glittery purple pinstripes, golden chains visible in the gap. Bright pink sweater tied around his waist. Purple rhinestone in his ear. Pink glasses.

Despite the somewhat critical look Thompson gave them, “That’s all fine and well but there are reports of-”

Standing up as threateningly as someone that skinny could, Rick found an outlet for his anger as he hissed, “And exactly what are you insinuating about my appearance, Randy? Because this is sure sounding like a discrimination suit growing and I’ve got a lot of money and free time to spend making your shitty little life hell!”

Taken aback, Thompson tried to backpedal, “M-Mr. Trager I meant no off-”

“THEN GO,” Rick yelled, voice louder than one could expect from him.

Muffled and jumbled apologies fell out of Thompson as he jumped out of the chair and stumbled out of the room. Leaving a still enraged Rick huffing as Jeremy patted him on the back as the door closed, “Shit, didn’t know you could do that. Good job.”

But as Jeremy went to peck Rick on the cheek he found a clawed hand pushing his face away as Rick growled at him, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Not listening, Jeremy reached for Rick’s arm but as smacked away again, “Calm down, Thompson’s gone. You did it.”

“I don’t fucking like this, Jeremy,” Rick’s lip curled, “You told me we’d just keep this quiet for a little while. This was a perfect out to make it legit.”

“You’re the one who said we were-”

“You were crushing my leg!” Rick looked away, “Made it pretty fucking obvious what you wanted me to say.”

“Look, Rick…”

“I’ve got a meeting.”

A barely eaten lunch was dumped in the trash as Rick collected his things.

Again, Jeremy tried to reach out only to be dodged. Undeterred he asked, “Want to come over to my place tonight? I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“No,” was Rick’s only answer before stomping out of the office.

\- - -

Stopping by his office, Rick annoyedly gathered some files he needed for his meeting. Boring stuff, financial stuff. Normally he liked the latter well enough but it was the former’s type of business. Minutiae. He hated minutiae.

Fuck Jeremy. Goddamn asshole. To think Rick’d been trying to clean up his act for him.

Jerking all the files out of the drawer he eyed it warily.

Reaching in, he pressed on the slightly fractured top and fished around until he caught the plastic and pulled out the little bag of white powder.

Drugs. The one thing to never let him down. I mean, quite literally as was the nature of his preference for uppers. Up is the opposite of down after all.

Sliding a shiny plastic folder in front of him, Rick dumped a moderate amount of the coke onto the flat surface. Separating it with his ID card as he prepared to get ready for meetings in the way in which he was accustomed to.

Nobody would even bat an eye when he walked into the conference room, clearly fucked up.

I mean, he was just an eccentric, wasn’t he?


	11. Lordy, Lordy, Look Who's Forty(-Eight)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! Tomorrow is my birthday. This chapter coming along at the same time is just a happy coincidence.

Rick’s resurgence of drug use was not a secret to Jeremy or really anyone in Mount Massive.

However, it was only Jeremy who knew why Rick was now showing up to meetings drugged up again, irritable and looking for a fight.

He’d certainly been saving Murkoff some money lately, given he was getting rather liberal with using, and following up on, getting people fired as a threat. Oddly, despite it making him more despised by the little fish, the big fish were fairly happy with his work.

Enough to throw him a large birthday party, like they usually gave to higher-ups. He’d always been “mysteriously” denied it over the years.

That seemed to get him to lay off the coke, just a bit.

It didn’t do without note to Jeremy that Rick’s drugs were directly connected to how happy he was. Fickle, just like him.

And he, of course, was acutely aware that the biggest source of Rick’s stress was Jeremy’s refusal to be open about the two of them being together. Even though he played the picture of a perfect boyfriend outside work, he knew it vexed Rick whenever they were in public.

Rick was far too attached to Jeremy to even think of cutting it off though. He was getting old, although he was excited for the birthday part he knew it also meant he was aging. Quickly. He wasn’t in a position to be shoving away potential love interests.

Especially as Rick had started finding more and more long, long strands of hair on his pillow in the morning. Fucking shitty genetics.

Brushing his hair had grown stressful too, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Lights all around it, illuminating him. He’d grown more mindful of lighting, a weird symptom of aging. Shadows weren’t his friends anymore, he could hide wrinkles until a harsh overhead fluorescent lights? He hated those the most.

When he was young, Rick had known his choice in clothing was to amplify his appearance. Now, deep down, he knew it was a distraction from it.

All things considered, he still thought he looked rather nice. At least hopefully Jeremy would appreciate it. Granted, the average person was just going to look at him and think “stereotypical pimp” but he liked it and that’s what matters.

Even gaudier than usual. A bright pink jacket, purple accents. White shirt, unbuttoned uncomfortably low with gold necklaces glinting from behind it. Purple pants. Obnoxious pink crocodile skin shoes with a gold buckle. Purple glasses. Always liked to wear his favorite colors for special occasions.

His phone went off next to him, certainly Jeremy texting him to say he’s here. Rick didn’t bother even looking at it as he shoved it into his pocket and started heading down.

Rick’s car was always comically unflashy considering how expensive it was. Black. Forgettable.

Never did understand that mentality.

But it was a nice car nonetheless, very obvious as he slid onto the leather seat.

“You look good,” Jeremy managed a compliment.

“I do! Thank you for noticing,” Rick laughed, jerking Jeremy towards him by the collar to kiss him on the cheek.

Looking at the backseat, Rick saw a small box wrapped in purple and pink, obviously for him. But as he tried to reach for it, Jeremy just grabbed his hand and chastised him with a laugh, “Wait until after the party, alright? Who the hell opens their present before the party?”

\- - -

Murkoff had sprung for a different location, forsaking their usual mansion for something a bit more… flashy.

Jeremy was actually relatively impressed that they’d gone to the bother of finding a gaudily 80’s location. A hotel, a bit of a drive. But the ballroom was both updated and left the same for over forty years. Lit up pink and purple, Jeremy wondered if that was serendipity or if they’d done that for Rick on purpose. Probably the first option.

Rick was beaming as they walked in, only faltering when Jeremy pulled himself free from his grip. Walking in together and separate at the same time.

But he was an easily distracted man, once they were inside he was much more preoccupied with anything else. Happily chatting up higher ranks who usually ignored him. Happily chowing on snacks tailored to him.

The only source of discomfort he was finding was Jeremy staying at a perfectly unattached distance from him, no matter what.

But he’d been ignored for so long, he just wanted to enjoy the positive attention for as long as he could.

People did still seem more interested in talking to Jeremy.

Approached even by Harrisons’ shitty little grandsons.

Rick wasn’t stupid, he knew the amused look on that little shithead Eric’s face was from seeing Jeremy with him. Addressing his boyfriend only, ignoring Rick himself, Eric clapped Jeremy on the back, “Hanging out with the birthday boy?”

“Uh, happy birthday by the way,” Zack weakly offered to Rick. Nearly hiding behind his cousin. Little bitch was always afraid of him, really put the ‘phobic’ in ‘homophobic.’ Like he’d want anything to do with the little corporate hobbit.

“Thanks,” Rick replied, voice dripping with disdain.

Eric, sensing a weak point, dove in on it, “How old are you turning again?”

“Forty-eight,” Rick gritted his teeth, the little fucker knowing full well his age was written on the cake.

“Gonna be hitting the big five-oh in a couple years, eh? Surprised someone hasn’t put a ring on a catch like you,” Eric gleamed, absolutely crammed to the brim with spite.

“I’m not too concerned about that,” Rick lied, looking down at the martini in his hand. Annoyed.

“Surprised you’re single too, Mr. Blaire,” Zack’s need to suck up to any potential ladder climbers kicking in.

“Not… a real concern for me either.”

Eric delivered the fatal blow though, “It’d give you someone to bring to those bi-weekly parties though. You’re just about the only person not using your plus one.”

A sharp look from Rick nearly cut Jeremy in half as the man went cold, visibly paling as he responded to Eric in a broken monotone, “I- uh- forgot all about that, h-honestly.”

“Well, get remembering. I mean, at least bring some colleagues or something. Good for business connections if not impressing a cutie.”

With that, the cousins were called away. Harrison waving politely at Jeremy but very evidently trying to impress some wealthy looking Murkoff top brass he’d cornered. He seemed to loving pulling out his pet grandsons for that.

Normally Jeremy was happy to be rid of the obnoxious corporate stooges but the frigid, ice cold, seething rage that was emanating off of Rick was the most ominous thing Jeremy had ever experienced.

But he was left alone with Rick nonetheless, extremely happy that looks can’t kill as his boyfriend hissed at him, “A plus one, huh? This whole time? You’ve had a plus one.”

“I didn’t kn-”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Jeremy.”

Dead silence. A downright nonverbal threat from Rick, demanding Jeremy not break eye contact. To fess up to his crimes. Not taking lies or silence as acceptable answers. Blatantly. Looming closer, puncturing the physical barrier that Jeremy had set since the start of the evening.

“Silence is still lying. Nobody likes a fucking liar.”

Jeremy almost wished Rick would just make a scene and get it over with. Theatrics would be far preferable to the uncharacteristic, quiet hatred emanating off of Rick as he glared Jeremy down.

Giving in, Jeremy leaned in to whisper and try to justify his shithead behavior, “Look, Rick, everyone just brings their significant others-”

It should be a mercy that Rick was whispering back but it was only more threatening, “And what am I?”

“My… my boyfriend…” Jeremy quietly admitted, averting his eyes.

“So tell me why you really didn’t take me. I want to hear you say it.”

“People… people would figure it out.”

A burning splash blinded Jeremy, coupled with a sharp pang of pain as the glass hit him square in the face.

The party halted to a stop around them as the martini glasses shattered on the ground.

Whispers starting as Rick abruptly turned face and stomped away. Disappearing out of a side door out, slamming it behind him.

Everyone speaking only got louder as Jeremy chases after him.

\- - -

Long, twisting hallways. Clearly leading through employee only areas, Jeremy shoving past already alarmed uniformed workers. An easy path of breadcrumbs to use to follow Rick.

Twisting, twisting, down stairs, through a couple rooms, an abandoned sitting area, another room.

Eventually the messy trail dead ended, in an empty ballroom.

Quintessential Rick, overdramatic to excess in the already dramatic act of storming off.

Highlighted in white by the ever lovely sound of snorting echoing loudly in the wide, vacant room.

“Oh, come on Rick, don’t do th-” Jeremy started before being brutally cut off.

The echoing yell back was deafening, “Shut the FUCK up, Jeremy! JUST SHUT UP! Stop talking!”

Rick looked downright feral right now as he whipped around the face Jeremy with his face pulled back into a vicious snarl.

He’d been unusually sloppy this time, there was obvious white powder still on his face and beyond that had fallen onto his clothes. Clean white obvious on the gaudy pink and purple, a stark contrast that only made his normal appearance even louder.

And it was already loud. Bright clothes feeling more like the warning colors of a poisonous frog than the obnoxious plumage of a tropical bird.

“You’re ashamed of me,” Rick growled at him, irritatedly shoving his disheveled hair away from his face. At some point he’d managed to rip it out of the ponytail, hair everywhere yet somehow despite its omnipresence the fact it was so messy only highlighted the fact it was thin.

Jeremy could almost swear it was thinner than when he’d first met Rick. Hell, the man himself even seemed like he was thinner. Losing his hair, losing weight.

He was brought out of his judgemental thoughts by the booming footsteps of Rick stomping towards him, grabbing him by the collar and shaking him, “I said, you’re ashamed of me. What, NOW you shut up?”

Rick was vaguely stronger than Jeremy expected but when he found himself calculating whether he could take him in a fight, should it escalate, he knew he could still take him pretty easily.

Not that he really wanted to do that and considering Rick only seemed to getting angrier with his silence…

Jeremy put his hand over Rick’s in an attempt to placate him, “Rick, no, it’s just-”

More shaking, Rick growling, “Don’t FUCKING lie to me.”

“Look, Rick, what do you want me to say?” Jeremy’s voice grew a bit angry too, pointing back in the vague direction they’d come from, “Do you think those people-”

“I don’t fucking care about those people!” Rick jabbed frantically in the same direction before that same accusatory finger was nearly stabbing Jeremy in the eye, “I care about YOU, Jeremy. And prior to tonight, I liked to think YOU cared about ME. Or maybe- probably actually- just HOPED you did. But you’re just like all the others, aren’t you?”

“What.. what are you talking about? What others?” Jeremy asked, grabbing Rick’s wrist in vague fear of losing an eye.

“Every single FUCKING idiot I’ve dated? Has treated me like… like some fucking EMBARRASSMENT.”

“Rick, it’s not-”

“It is! You’ve got the same fucking lies and excuses as all of them!” Rick twisted his hand away, shaking it with irritation and something bordering on disgust.

“I do care abou-”

“You sure don’t act like it.”

“I do, it’s just,” Jeremy said, starting to point towards the abandoned party before his jaw dropped.

Wrong choice, very wrong choice. Immediate, shaking rage overtook Rick the second he even vaguely implied the fucking Murkoff assholes up above, still at the party.

Jeremy braced for a punch when he saw Rick’s hand go back but instead he just found himself shoved nearly hard enough to fall on his ass, Rick only more wild as he rubbed his hand over his face in irritance and screamed, “SHUT UP, JUST FUCKING SHUT THE GODDAMN FUCK UP!”

Rick certainly looked like he had way more to say but as he continued to heave and huff, glaring coldly at Jeremy, the sudden bright red caught his attention. Just a few drops on his hand. Looking down, there was much more blood. On his jacket, on his shirt. Even fallen to the ground below.

Swiping his hand under his nose, Rick found his nose bleeding. Heavily.

For a second the look he gave Jeremy was one more of fear than anything, looking for reassurance.

But looking at him, Rick only found a look of disgust. Tinged with fear of his own. But primarily disgust.

Again, Rick shoved Jeremy. This time out of the way to allow himself to burst out of the ballroom and disappear into another unknown location. But given his direction, Jeremy was fairly certain his destination was out of the building. Far away.

Jeremy couldn’t help but wonder how he was going to get there, considering he’d driven him.

\- - -

Wherever Rick had gone, he was far beyond Jeremy’s reach.

After about a dozen phone calls had gone ignored, Jeremy had headed over to his apartment.

Rick and he had exchanged keys, perhaps a bit too early on. But when he turned it and walked in, he found the apartment empty.

No signs that Rick had come home either which probably would have been pretty evident considering how much he’d been bleeding. But there were no bloody tissues in the trash bins, no drops on the floor. No sign of the man.

Jeremy even went far enough to sleep there but in the morning there was still no sign of Rick.

He’d been hoping to wake up and find the man curled against his side, apologetic for his outburst. Eager to have himself back in Jeremy’s affection, regardless of what he’d said.

On that front, no matter what Rick said or did, Jeremy didn’t really doubt he’d come back.

Although Jeremy wouldn’t not couldn’t pretend he wasn’t concerned.

Especially as Rick was still not answering his phone. Not even room on his answering machine anymore, too full of Jeremy’s previous pleas for Rick to come home.

The second he stepped into the halls of Mount Massive, Jeremy felt a ball of silence encapsulate him. People shutting up the second he was within ears reach. But he knew, every single one of them was talking about him and Rick.

All he could catch were scraps but he heard his name. Heard Rick’s name.

But more importantly, he could hear people referencing Rick being here.

He made his way back to Rick’s office, followed by this uncomfortable pocket of silence broken only by the sound of his knuckles on the wooden door.

“Fuck you,” was the reply he got. Despite this, Jeremy entered.

Rick looked unsurprised that not only had he been right about who it was but that he’d entered without permission. Either way, he growled at him, “What do you want?”

Jeremy examined Rick for a second. Wondering if he’d just bought clothes, considering he hadn’t come home yet was still wearing different clothes. Distinctly new clothes at that, considering the plain purple suit was particularly modern in comparison, didn’t fit him tremendously well, and the fact that Jeremy hadn’t seen it before.

“Did you just come here to stare at me?” Rick snapped, shoving some papers in his desk. Jeremy noted that for once, Rick’s hair was out of the standard ponytail. Must not have thought to buy a hair tie.

“No, I’d like to talk if you’re willing to not run off again.”

“Maybe I’ll let you.”

Rick eyed him warily but allowed Jeremy to come around the desk and lean on it next to him, “Look, I do care about you.”

“Funny way of showing it,” Rick crossed his arms, glaring at discarded files off to the side.

He didn’t fight it when Jeremy grabbed his chin though, making him look up at him, “I mean it. When I tried to talk about what people will think… look, they’d be a lot crueler to you than they’d be to me and you know it. If people knew… they’d… you’d never hear the end of it.”

Rick didn’t look terribly happy to hear that but he looked… resigned, “I already get that. You could’ve… you could’ve at least brought me to the parties. Shithead said you could bring someone you’re not with. Business and shit.”

“He can say that all he wants but I’ve never seen anyone show up with anyone but their girlfriend or wife,” Jeremy replied, “Besides, while I’ve grown to care about you…”

Rick eyed him warily, warning him to pick his words carefully.

“Look, I’ve been to two parties with you and both times you’ve left them out of your mind on drugs.”

“So, right back to being ashamed,” Rick kicked the trash bin under his desk, “Thanks.”

“You just don’t handle parties well and you know it actively hurts you to do that shit to yourself. Both physically and socially. I wish you’d cut that shit out.”

Rick tapped his fingers on the edge of the desk, “Things aren’t that easy.”

Both were quiet for a second, eyeing each other carefully.

Eventually it was Jeremy who broke the silence, “Look… if you promise to be on your best behavior… you can start coming with me to the bi-weekly parties.”

Rick was trying to look firm but Jeremy caught the ghost of a smile, “You promise?”

“Of course I promise. I hate the fucking things. There’s not a single person there who I don’t fucking hate at those things. Besides, my favorite part of those parties was always going to see you afterwards anyways.”

Just as Jeremy suspected, Rick was cracking at the edges. He was too alone to turn away any chance at affection. Jeremy grinned as Rick continued to give in despite trying not to smile, “Really?”

“Of course,” Jeremy placated him, running a hand through Rick’s hair, “Been how it’s been since the night I first met you, huh? Miserable party before. Fun time with you afterwards.”

“Fine but I just… want to ask you one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Are we ever going to be open about all this? Don’t lie to me.”

Jeremy sighed, “I don’t know, Rick. Times are changing but Murkoff’s stuck in the past.”

“But…”

“Why are you even pushing so hard for this?”

“I just… don’t want you to be embarrassed by being with me…” Rick mumbled.

“I’m not, I promise,” Jeremy said, pushing his hair out of the way to kiss him on the cheek, “Kinda wish we could have talked this out last night instead of just, you know, making a giant scene and ruining your birthday.”

“And I’m dressed so boring now,” Rick said, apparently annoyed by the potential dramatic image in his head being ruined, “I had to buy this fucking thing at whatever shithole department store was open ‘cause I saw your car parked outside my apartment.”

“I waited all night for you, you know. Fell asleep in your bed.”

Rick very obviously liked that, unable to stop himself from smiling, “Really?”

“Really. Brought your present with me and everything.”

Rick remembered the gift, sitting on the backseat of Jeremy’s car, “Sooo… my present…”

His eyes sparkled as he saw Jeremy pull the package out of his jacket pocket and hand it over. Eagerly snatching it from his hands and ripping it open like a kid at Christmas.

Gaudy. The biggest, shiniest, gaudiest golden watch Rick had ever seen.

To anyone else it would have been hideous but Rick loved it.

He only gave himself a moment to get it on his wrist before he lunged up and pulled Jeremy down into a tight hug, kissing Jeremy on the cheek.


	12. Why So Serious?

For all the gaudiness of Rick’s apartment, Jeremy had to admit that- much like its owner- he found it oddly charming and comfortable. Kind of a nice contrast from his own rather cold, un-lived-in apartment. Lately, it had started feeling more like a home than his own place.

Leaning back into the couch, he looked around. Jeremy’d noticed that since he’d started coming over that Rick had been keeping the place cleaner. Less dirty laundry lying around and Rick always seemed to have food ready for him.

He really had kicked Rick into some sort of wife mode, hadn’t he? Happily doing household chores and cooking for him. Eager to please.

Right now that was extra evident as Rick walked out straightening his tie.

Jeremy wouldn’t say Rick looked quite NORMAL but the suit was certainly tamer than his usual stuff. A mostly black suit with purple trim. A regular white shirt buttoned up. A black and purple striped tie, a rare actual tie. The only thing really holding it back from “normal” being that the entire damn thing seemed to be sprinkled with glitter. Oh and the obnoxiously large golden belt buckle.

“You’re going to shed that stuff all over the damn party, Rick.”

“I know! Everyone needs to know that I was there.”

Posing obnoxiously, Rick was silently demanding a compliment.

“You look good, Rick. Weirdly normal but good.”

Rick was satisfied with this answer, holding out his hand to show off that he was wearing the gift watch, “I figured I’d play nice. For you. I even buttoned up my shirt all the way AND put a tie on.”

“Very professional, maybe you’ll even vaguely approach blending in,” Jeremy grabbed the extended hand, pulling Rick over enough for him to kiss the top of it which made the man giggle like a schoolgirl.

Pulling his boyfriend up and curling around his arm, Rick shook his head, “I never blend in but I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise.”

“You better,” Jeremy warned as he walked Rick towards the door.

\- - -

The couches at the party were much less comfy than the one in Rick’s apartment. Honestly, Jeremy really would have rathered they stay there and watch a movie. He’d offer to buy a pizza, Rick’d insist on cooking him something. Finish the movie, fool around, pass out, breakfast in the morning.

But Jeremy knew showing his face at as many of these parties as possible was the best thing for his career, even if Rick was hanging off of him while he did it.

Maybe it’d even be good for Rick’s job. Get him actually in people’s good graces. Jeremy had a feeling many of the higher ups trashed on Rick without even knowing him. He could be charming when need be.

Rick seemed to be leaning into that just as much as he was leaning against Jeremy’s side. That is to say, very intensely.

People were whispering but ultimately they seemed much more curious about Rick’s sudden appearance as Jeremy’s guest than anything beyond that. Especially considering the fact they’d been fighting at Rick’s birthday party.

Smith’s grandsons in particular seemed curious but their discomfort they only hovered around and hoped to overhear something.

They seemed relieved as they watched Smith himself approach the two men, pulling over a heavy armchair to talk to them. Not prone to holding back due to old age, “Blaire! You’re finally bringing someone but don’t think it’s a someone any of us expected, recent circumstances taken into consideration.” He paused to laugh heavily before continuing, “Didn’t you two get into a fight at Trager’s birthday party?”

Of course, he’d seen that happen firsthand. The question was merely social politeness, a concept that Smith was apparently at least vaguely acquainted with.

That was something Jeremy probably should of thought of before, an explanation, “It was just a misunderstanding the two of us had. We’ve patched it up.”

“Didja bring him as an apology?” Smith half-asked, half-joked. Pointing at Rick.

“Not quite,” Jeremy furthered the lies, patting Rick on the shoulder, “One of your boys brought up that my plus one didn’t need to be someone I’m dating.”

All but a direct denial. He felt Rick stiffen up uncomfortably next to him.

But he stayed quiet, letting the two talk without any objections.

“Ah, guess I kinda did imply that didn’t I?” Smith squinted, trying to remember his own words, “Well, hope you’re enjoying this party at least, Trager. If not your own.”

“I’m having a nice time,” Rick lied, holding up his drink, “Don’t know how long I can stay though.”

“Well, Jeremy never stays long either. You guys gonna go catcalling afterwards?”

Off base, Smith. Off base.

That at least forced a smile out of Rick, “I suppose you could call it that.”

Whatever dirty thing Rick was vaguely implying at Smith went right over his head, “Good to see you kids getting along, you… you youngin’s nowadays are always at each other’s throats. Climbin’ all over each other like a bucket of crabs.”

Rick bit back a joke about climbing all over Jeremy, “I’m a real friendly guy alright.”

Well, that was certainly true. Smith laughed, “Well, don’t have many of those at these things. Maybe you’ll help make these boring ole parties a lil’ bit more fun, eh kiddo?”

Nodding, Rick gave him a tilt of the head smile, “I like to think I’m fun.”

With another laugh, Smith parted from them with a smile. Always a man intent on speaking to each and every person at any party he’s at. Like magnets, his two grandsons quickly rejoined with him, obvious to everyone but the old man that they were looking for gossip.

It really seemed like Smith was more accepting of Rick than anyone Jeremy had talked to about his partner before. Made him oddly like the slimy old man a little bit better.

Swirling his drink, Rick was clearly… disappointed. Downing it, he placed the glass on the table next to them and looking around.

A lot of judgemental eyes averted themselves as Rick scanned the crowd. He’d have to be incredibly stupid to not know they were all looking at him, talking about him. For all his disappointment in Jeremy still resisting being open about being together he had to admit he’d been right about one thing. He’d truly poisoned his social standing with that stunt at his birthday party.

Part of his brain wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and do whatever he wanted. Get wasted, sneak off, do some blow, come back, lose some clothes, go wild.

But looking over at Jeremy, greeting one of the well dressed men walking by he knew he couldn’t do that.

Rick’d promised he was going to be on his best behavior and he was going to do it.

For Jeremy.

The man who has openly denied them being together multiple times.

Tilting his head back, Rick looked up at the ceiling. Why couldn’t he just… find a normal relationship? Someone who wanted him around unconditionally. Jeremy was far from his first partner to try to sweep the existence of their relationship under the rug.

Men were always worse about it. They were always the ones who wanted to hide him, the women just quietly made excuses for his weird, erratic behavior.

Rick wished Jeremy would just make excuses instead of trying to hide him.

A hand on his shoulder, “You alright?”

Pulling his head up, Rick rubbed at the back of his neck, “Just… not feeling so great.”

Wasn’t a lie at least. Luckily, Jeremy was sympathetic as he lowered his voice, “You’ve drunk a lot more of those martinis than you should’ve, didn’t you? Well… we’ll stay just a little bit longer then I’ll take you home, alright?”

“Stay the night with me?”

A strangled bark of laughter before returning to the whisper, “That doesn’t sound like ‘not feeling so great’.”

“No, not like that,” Rick rolled his head back again, “Just… just have a nice, relaxing night together.”

“What, are you trying to domesticate me?”

“Can you just let me pretend we’re a normal couple for a single night?”

\- - -

Collapsing on the couch, Rick lazily kicked his shoes off and threw an arm over his eyes. Sighing as he listened to Jeremy move around his apartment. Get changed in the other room. When he felt something whump into the center of his chest, he knew it was one of his robes.

Squirming out of the rest of his clothes, Rick pulled it on before cuddling back into the soft pillows of his couch.

Moving only when he felt his ankle grabbed, legs pushed out of the way before being allowed to rest over Jeremy’s lap. Hand rubbing his ankle, “You okay?”

For a long while, Rick stayed quiet before proceeding, “Jeremy, I want to ask you something and I want the truth.”

Cautiously, he replied, “Yeah?”

“How serious is this?”

“What exactly?”

“Us,” Rick replied, tilting his head back to stare “Look… if this isn’t serious I just… I’m getting old, Jer. Just… just tell me if you’re wasting what little time I have left.”

Annoyed, of course he was annoyed, “Are you seriously still hung up on telling people?”

“Don’t change the subject, I just… really need an answer to this. A real answer.”

Patting Rick’s leg, Jeremy replied, “We’re serious. At least I’ve always assumed we are.”

Rick wanted to throw that back at him, wanting to drive the whole ‘it’s-not-normal-to-deny-we’re-together’ thing home. But he was tired of that argument, lifting his head enough to look at Jeremy, “How serious?”

“How’s this for serious?” Jeremy smirked, “I know it’s kind of quick but how’d you feel about moving in together?”

That got his attention. Happily pushing himself up, Rick’s eyes were twinkling, ‘Really?!”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now,” Jeremy knew that would work, get Rick happy with him again, “We already spend so much time together and honestly? I fucking hate my apartment here.”

“You… you want to move into MY apartment?” he sounded incredulous.

“Figured you’ve already been here a while,” Jeremy replied, looking around, “You’ve, uh, certainly spent more time decorating than I have. It’s more of a home than the place I’ve been renting is.”

He grunted as Rick threw himself at him full force, pinning him with a tight hug that was nearly crushing his windpipe. Only smothering him further with fast, sharp kisses.

\- - -

Jeremy really didn’t have much to move, a bit unsurprising. Minimalist to the core, leaving Rick almost wondering if the choice of who would move was purely pragmatic. It certainly would have been more of an ordeal to move Rick’s mountains of kitschy crap.

Just a few boxes, not even so much that they needed a moving truck. Just shoving it in Jeremy’s trunk and backseat and hauling it up stairs by themselves.

Immediately when given free reign, Rick started poking around Jeremy’s meager belongings. Sitting on the ground with his arms halfway into a box, he teased, “Barely more than a suitcase worth of stuff here.”

“Stop exaggerating, there’s like five boxes of stuff” Jeremy said, pulling Rick’s hand out, “And stop snooping.”

“It’s not snooping if you live together, I’m going to see everything eventually,” Rick immediately started digging around again. Happily pulling out something of particular interest, “Ohhh, what’s this?”

He knew what it was, it was very obviously emblazoned on the front in gold. Memories.

“Don’t fucking touch that,” Jeremy growled, trying unsuccessfully to snatch it back.

Pushing himself away, Rick started looking through it, “I will touch these baby photos all I want, did they call you Jerry when you were li- oh they totally did, didn’t they?”

Dragging Rick back by his ankle, Jeremy tried to reach for it as he rolled onto his stomach and stretched out to keep the book in his possession. Uncaring about his annoyed boyfriend insulting him, “They called you Dick at some point, right? Because you are.”

“Nah, parents found it distasteful,” Rick replied, flipping through the pages to beam at them, “But you know what they say, you are what you eat.”

“Gross.”

“Hey! You benefit from that so shut it.”

A foot in the gut, gently, managed to push Jeremy back to allow for Rick to happily flip through the book, “You were a real grouchy kid, huh?”

Sighing and giving up, Jeremy leaned back against the couch, “Just hated having my picture taken.”

“Oh, I fucking loved it. Hell, I wish people still thought I was cute enough to want to take my picture all the time. Managed to swing that into my late twenties, have I ever shown you the amateur modelling pictures I have?”

“Does ‘amateur modelling pictures’ mean porn?”

“It’s not porn! Tasteful nudity only.”

“I highly doubt there is anything you’ve ever done in your life that counts as ‘tasteful.’”

Pouting, Rick pushed himself up to flip through the pictures leaning against Jeremy’s arm, “I’ll show you them later, prove you wrong.”

“Can’t wait to see porn shots of my boyfriend. At least tell me you’re alone in them.”

Rolling his eyes, Rick sighed, “I’m alone in them.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me it’s a legitimate concern.”

“Good to know what you think of me, Jer,” Rick said, largely unconcerned with that as he continued to look through the photos, “On the other hand, you were a real cute kid. Grumpiness aside.”

“You say that like it’s a surprise, I don’t know if I should be insulted.”

Ignoring that, Rick smiled slyly at him, “You ever thought about having kids, Jer?”

The look Jeremy gave him was downright fearful.

However, Rick was undaunted as he looked back at the pictures, “I mean, we’d have to adopt. Get a brat from China or something, push ‘em into a million clubs and demand all A’s.”

“I, uh, think you’re missing a few steps in this plan. We’re not even engaged or anything. Pretty sure you need to be married before you start trying to adopt some kids. Don’t think the adoption agency likes when you call the children ‘brats’ either.”

This was, of course, ignoring the much larger problem of “how are you gonna start a family with someone who won’t even publicly acknowledge your relationship?”

But Rick was too starry eyed about moving in together, brain racing with all of the possibilities of a future together as he held out his left hand with the ring finger extended, “My ring size is eight, just so you know. Wink wink.”

Looking at the bony hand with the too-long pinky nail, Jeremy wondered what pandora’s box he’d opened.


	13. A Grim Proposition

Duality encapsulated them as the weeks passed. Happy at home and increasingly miserable at work. Both halves of their lives seemed to amplify the other, for better or for worse.

Both Rick and Jeremy were enjoying living together, that much was certain though.

Rick’d grown so incredibly resigned to the idea of dying alone that there was nothing in this world that could make him happier than waking up every day on his live-in boyfriend’s chest. Head full of dreams of marriage and their adopted foreign brat that didn’t exist.

Jeremy was enjoying the fact he’d managed to find someone who likes cooking and hates clothing in equal measure. Some part of him was still thrown off by the fact Rick was, you know, a man but when in private that matter certainly didn’t actively bug him anymore. Just… odd, should he think about it too hard.

Homelife was pretty perfect. Any concerns Jeremy had about Rick being too much on a daily basis were assuaged. The man was, surprisingly, fairly calm when in I’m-at-home mode. Quite happy to quietly read or watch TV in silence, as long as they were close. Preferably slightly draped over him, just his feet or legs usually, or leaning on him slightly. Some ghoulish medical journal in his hand, turns out he loves reading those.

But homelife is only half of their lives and the other half was going substantially worse.

Project Walrider had completed halted to a dead stop.

Nothing seemed to be working anymore, no matter what angle the scientists jabbed at they found no purchase. Nothing seemed to be working anymore.

This was, of course, reflecting extremely poorly on Jeremy and now that Jeremy was falling out of favor…

Well, his personal life was free game.

Crude rumors were passed around, backed up by the extremely credible fact that Jeremy and Rick truly were together.

No one at work had solid proof they were a couple but they had more than enough to patch together into a confident assurance that they were. Together since the first second they met, that incident when acquiring Chris Walker, that tiff at Rick’s birthday and now? Now they drove to work together every single day.

Jeremy had claimed the carpooling was purely pragmatic, his apartment was simply on the way to work for Rick but nobody believed that lie for a second.

The rumors only grew crueler as time went on with no progress.

Jeremy’s usefulness was all used up and now he was, in their eyes, irreparably poisoned by association to Rick.

Every time neither of the men was around, you can assume someone was talking bad about them. Crude gestures the second either left, only more likely if it was both of them.

Neither Jeremy nor Rick was stupid though, they were both acutely aware of what was going on.

To say it was distressing Jeremy would be an understatement. People didn’t KNOW but people KNEW. Nothing they could ever confirm but what everyone assumed. Correctly, at that. He’d taught tailends of the hateful words they poorly tried to hide from him and his boyfriend. This was exactly what he hadn’t wanted.

Rick wasn’t too upset by it. This was something he’d been dealing with his entire life. The only issue he could really take with it was it caused Jeremy to pull away from him even more in public. Not only feeling like more rejection but also Rick wasn’t a fan of not being able to comfort a clearly upset significant other.

But to make matters worse for Jeremy, everyone acting like they knew only made Rick more insistent that they stop trying to hide it.

By his argument, it was stupid to try and pretend it wasn’t going on anymore. They didn’t need to go screaming it from the rooftops but trying to hide anything just wasn’t worth it. At best, it made them look like absolute fools.

Jeremy wasn’t moving on the issue though. Not an inch.

Rick wasn’t done pushing though.

As sort of a last ditch effort for Project Walrider the scientists were going to try something a bit risky and with a major asset as well. Jeremy wasn’t sure how he felt about this but at this point, he figured it’d be better not to rattle the scientists’ cage any further. His standing was too shaky already.

Standing in the observatory, Jeremy watched the massive man be wrangled in by no less than ten guards.

They’d learned since first acquiring him, it seems.

Chris was clearly sedated, whited out eyes staring blankly as he stumbled forward by their insistence. He was recognizable only by his size, a zombie of the man they’re taken in. He appeared to have destroyed most of his own face and the time he’d spent in the morphogenic engine had made him lose his hair.

He was somewhat surprised the man could even fit in the same capsule as a regular patient. Even if just barely.

Jeremy made no pretensions that he understood what the scientists were doing down there and he’d been asked to observe due to liability. Rick had only come along for the show, happily hanging off Jeremy’s shoulders as he leered below.

Neither knew what they were waiting for but when it made itself evident, my god did it make itself evident.

For a couple, boring minutes they just watched him in the orb. Suspended there. But as time went on he was obviously getting more and more agitated. Whatever the scientists were doing to him wasn’t visual, only being able to tell something was intensifying by Chris’s reactions.

It was explosive when it hit the boiling point. Literally.

Only two or three hits were needed for Chris to break the inch thick glass.

Thick shards chattering to the ground, followed by a rush of water that coated the ground. Chris paid no mind to the sharp edges cutting him and the tubes injuring him as he ripped and clawed his way to freedom with a roar that would cause a lion to tuck tail and run.

Glad they were high up and safe, Jeremy and Rick watched in a sick mixture of horror and excitement. The scene below like modern gladiatorial combat, Chris easily smacking scientists and guards away from him as they attempted to subdue him. A wild boar, tossing around opponents with ease.

Tranqs were seemingly doing nothing to him, even less effective than before the experiments. If anything, they just seemed to be making him angrier.

Rick was practically pressed against the glass at this point, having dragged Jeremy towards it too. The scientists who had been up there with them had scattered, all running downstairs yelling about emergency protocols.

“Will you look at fucking that!” Rick sounded downright giddy, “Can we just monetize this instead? I don’t think you understand how much money I’d pay to get a show like this on the weekends, Jer!”

Jeremy was too dumbstruck to really answer, watching the lawsuits rack up below them, “This is bad, Rick. This is real bad.”

“Ah, Murkoff’s got a whole sector devoted to covering these things up,” Rick grinning, tapping the glass, “This is expensive, that’s for sure, but I’m sure the scientists will find a way to glean some important information from this. Spin it in our favor.”

But just as he said that, any potential for this situation to be salvageable went right now down the drain

With terrifying ease, Chris picked up one of the guards and ripped his head clean off.

That’s gonna be a hell of a lot harder for Murkoff to cover up.

\- - -

To say Murkoff was pissed would be an understatement. As was to be completely expected, they put the entirety of this on Jeremy’s shoulders. He okay’d it and the only thing keeping him from being fired with extreme prejudice is that the guard was a lonely divorcee with no surviving family. No one to sue them.

Hanging up after being reamed out by a particularly angry Murkoff higher up, specifically the third one to yell at him today, Jeremy just put his head down on his desk.

When the door creaked open, Jeremy didn’t even look up. Already knowing that it was Rick coming in to check in on him for like the third time today. Always immediately after getting ripped a new one. Considering his office was no longer across from Rick’s he had vague concerns that the man had bugged his office.

Hands on his shoulders meant he’d been right about who it was, Rick’s voice about as soft as it was able to go, “You doin’ alright in here, Jer?”

“No,” Jeremy’s voice was muffled by the cheek flat on the desk.

“What’re they saying? Are they going to do anything to you?”

“You worried about me getting fired?”

“Of course I’m worried,” Rick replied, sliding down and hug Jeremy tightly around the shoulders, “I mean, if they do fire you it’s not like I can’t pay for my apartment by myself. I’ve lived alone there for like a year.”

“What, am I going to be your trophy husband?” Jeremy snarked, pushing his head up enough to look at Rick’s head resting on his shoulder.

“Oh no, I mean, I’m going to be the trophy husband AND the breadwinner there.”

“So what does that mean for me?”

“I’m just saying… if I need to take care of you for a while, I’m alright with that,” Rick smiled, tilting his head to kiss Jeremy on the cheek.

What should have been a sweet moment was ruined as there was a noise outside of Jeremy’s door. A harsh shoulder to the chest nearly knocked Rick on his ass as Jeremy straightened up. Pushing Rick away from him in order to get ready for someone coming in.

No one did though. Whatever caused the noise outside the door had been merely passing by.

The damage had been done though.

A snarl pulled Rick’s face into a sharp grimace, “Real nice, Jer. Real fucking classy. I’m standing here, tell you that I don’t care if you lose your job, that I’ll support you, that I care about you. And at the slightest indication that someone could see us together, you shove me off like someone trying to sell you shit at a mall kiosk.”

“Look, I’m already in hot water. I don’t need people talking ab-”

“Newsflash, asshole! People have been talking about us the whole goddamn time!” Rick yelled, jabbing a finger on Jeremy’s desk with sharp taps, “This is just getting ridiculous, Jer! At this point, actively pretending we’re not together is just making us both look like fucking morons.”

Jeremy pointed out, towards the door, accusingly, “They don’t KNOW anything though it’s-”

He stopped talking at the sharp hiss from Rick who was just barely keeping himself from absolutely losing it, eyebrows furrowed tightly. The silence hung in the air while Jeremy waited for whatever Rick had to say but nothing came. He just watched Rick’s eyes flick around, looking for something to say but there was nothing.

“Fuck you, Jeremy,” was all Rick growled at him before turning and stomping out of the office.

\- - -

Jeremy had assumed that Rick had merely stormed back to his office but that turned out to be incorrect. The room was empty and no one had seen Rick since this morning.

Great, Rick got pissed, took their car and went home. But when Jeremy walked down to the employee parking lot it was still there. And when he got home and unlocked the door, walked in the apartment was similarly empty. Nothing had been touched.

Fuck, this is a bigger problem than Jeremy had expected. Calling and texting Rick provided no answer either. Texts piles up on Jeremy’s side, ignored. Calls went right to answering machine.

Worst of all, Jeremy couldn’t even begin to guess where Rick would have gone. Sure they went out to a few select bars and restaurants but calling those places, Rick hadn’t been seen. And it’s not like the man is subtle. When he’s in the room, you know it. I mean, today he’d been wearing a neon blue suit with a zebra shirt. His appearance screams at you.

Pacing the living room, Jeremy left more and more messages on the answering machine. Starting angry, growing escalatingly worried. Demands to come back and talk this out like adults turning to the closest the man could get to begging for any sign that Rick was still alive as his stubborn pride would allow.

Lying on his back, still fully dressed, a thousand reasonably probable and all equally negative and horrifying situations. I mean, Rick’s a drug addict. It’s unbelievably realistic that Rick’s lying somewhere, face down in a pile of coke, dead as a doornail.

Hours passed, the sun set and the moon rose. Last Jeremy looked at a clock it was past 3AM. Sometime after that, he finally passed out to some very troubled nightmares.

A sudden, emphatic ‘fuck’ was what woke him up.

Had he looked at the clock, Jeremy would have seen it was just past 5AM.

But he didn’t, jumping out of bed and bolting out to the living room to find the source of the noise bleeding on the couch.

Balled up tissues of blood were in front of Rick, still holding one to his nose. A trail of red to where the tissues had been, some bloody fingerprints on the box. Red splattered onto the lines of white powder in front of him. Ignored, strangely, partially due to the nosebleed and partially because Rick was now glaring sharply at him.

“What are you looking at?” Rick growled at him. More of an accusation of all previous offenses than a question. Considering the obvious answer was ‘Jeremy is looking at his extremely fucked up boyfriend, bleeding all over the couch.’

And fucked up he was. His hair was down and heavily tangled, massive bags under his eyes, eyes constricted and bloodshot. At some point he’d lost his jacket, black and white tiger striped shirt ripped open and missing some buttons.

Knowing he had to try to approach this with as much tact as he is able, Jeremy pulled Rick into one of those too-tight hugs he likes so much. Not even flinching at the blood getting onto his suit. Rick didn’t return the hug but he also didn’t pull away. Even as Jeremy kept an arm around him, ensuring he didn’t run, “Jesus, Rick, you look like hell. Where the fuck were you?”

Not great at being touchy feely. For the first time, Rick tried to pull away, “What do you care?”

He was breathing heavily, like he’d been running a marathon. Paired with how crouched over he was, Rick looked like a sick, cornered animal. Especially considering how easily Jeremy was holding him in place. Shaking slightly despite being restrained.

“I care, I care alo-”

“Got a funny fucking way of showing it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jeremy snapped coldly, “Jesus, Rick, I passed out in my suit because I was too fucking worried to bother changing. Do you have any idea how many times I called you?!”

“I LOST MY GODDAMN PHONE, OKAY?” Rick yelled, kicking the coffee table hard enough to shake the cocaine on it. Just slightly.

Somehow, he was breathing even harder now. Eyes jerking around even more erratically, frantically. Looking paler than ever, thin face ghost white. For a second, Jeremy just assumed it was the drugs but this was something different, something…

As Rick’s hand gripped his own shirt white knuckle tight it hit Jeremy.

Jeremy’s own phone nearly dropped on the ground as he frantically whipped it out of his pocket and misdialed, misdialed, dialed 911 before the calm operator replied, “What is your emergency?”

His reply was more of a yelling demand, “My boyfriend’s having a heart attack, get the fuck over here!”

\- - -

Beeping. As much as Jeremy hated that noise it was good. Meant Rick was still ticking along as he slept.

Granted you could tell that looking at him too, smiling in his sleep. Despite the panic and pain of the heart attack, the frantic ambulance ride, the chaos of the hospital stabilizing him, he was smiling.

As he slowly blinked awake for the second time, they were alone. No nurses bustling around, no doctors dragging answers out of sleepy but chipper Rick.

He only smiled more as Jeremy got up to sit on the end of the bed, even reaching out to grab his hand.

Given no one in the hospital knew them, Jeremy didn’t mind. He had questions though, “Well… you’re certainly cheery for having just had a heart attack.”

“Of course I’m happy,” Rick replied, squeezing his hand harder. Jeremy supposed the look he was giving was supposed to be ‘knowing’ but he certainly didn’t know what it was supposed to mean.

“Are you gonna elaborate on that? Because even before the heart attack you were pretty pissed off.”

“I heard what you said.”

“Thanks, I love ambiguity.”

Despite the snark, Rick the happily dreamy look didn’t leave his face, “You called me your boyfriend.”

Jeremy really hadn’t thought about it in the moment but looking back, Rick’s bliss made sense. That really was the first time Jeremy had ever referred to him as such to, well, anyone. He just nodded, “I… I did.”

“I was still conscious when you forced your way into the ambulance too. I thought you were gonna punch that lil’ mousey broad out if she tried to push you again, saying family only. You even told her we live together.”

“Well, I mean, that part’s pretty obvious. They did pick you up at my house in the middle of the night.”

“I still appreciated it. C’mere.”

Rick wasn’t able to drag Jeremy towards him terribly well with one hand, the other having the heart rate monitor clamped to it. To his delight, Jeremy complied though. Leaning over him to plant a kiss on his cheek. Not exactly what he’d been aiming for but he’d take it. A scrap of public affection from the usually standoffish man.

Pushing himself back up, Jeremy promised, “I’ll make sure nobody at work knows why you’re in here. As far as they’re concerned, you’ve just had a heart attack.”

\- - -

Mount Massive was torn directly in half, much like the guy Chris had maimed. People really couldn’t decide if it was more interesting that, well, Chris had done that entire business or the fact that abruptly right after Trager had ended up in the hospital or the fact Blaire had seemed to have immediately been at his side.

Each was interesting a different way, each person having a favorite topic sheerly on preference.

Chris’s murder was interest because, of course, he ripped a dude’s head off. The guard who’d been his victim wasn’t terribly popular, a bit of a loner, so there was little mourning to be had. Just flitting rumors about what they’d done with his body. How they’d stopped Chris’s rampage. What they were going to do now, would they be expected to continue experimenting on the behemoth?

On the second point, there was plenty of speculation about Trager’s hospitalization being related to Chris’s attack in some way. Thoughts of Murkoff putting stress on the higher ups,Trager being an indicator of the company being in trouble, about their jobs and Mount Massive being in trouble. Then, of course, many knew he had drug problems of some sort. They were the ones who hit the nail on the head.

The third and final talk point was a much more personal level one. Everyone knew Blaire’s announcement had come far too quickly. Through him, they knew that Trager had been taken to the hospital early in the morning for a heart attack.

Thing is, not only did Blaire know this but he’d shown up to work barely an hour late. It was extremely evident that he’d actually already visited the man too. Some brushed it off as “they’re very close friends, of course he already visited him” but the wider majority assumed that… well, Blaire was either already with him when he had the heart attack or he was willing to rush over in the wee hours of the morning to be by his side. Damning either way.

So depending on your interest in bloodlust, business or personal, there was a hot topic for you to discuss over the watercooler.

But Murkoff itself? They were only concerned with the first two.

And that had led the man knocking on Blaire’s office door.

When he stepped inside Blaire didn’t recognize the man at all. A particularly sinister looking man, black hair slicked tightly against his head. He looked fairly young, much younger than the average Murkoff higher up. If Blaire had to guess, the man looked like he was in his late twenties.

Either way, Blaire tried to turn on the charm as this was surely about the Walker incident. He got up and already had a hand extended and a saccharine fake smile on his face, “I take it you’re from headquarters, what brings you-”

“Sit down, Mr. Blaire,” the man held up a hand to stop him, gesturing at his chair, “I want this to be a quick in-and-out, I have other places to be tonight.”

Blaire nearly missed the edge of his chair, eye locked onto the strange man’s near black eyes, “Okay, Mr.-?”

“Doesn’t matter. Murkoff, as I’m sure you can guess, is a bit displeased right now with the state of Mount Massive and Project Walrider.”

“We’ve… well, we’ve certain hit a bit of road bump but the scientists assume me that they have something in mind they’re going to-”

“Mr. Walker is a little less of a road bump and more of a sinkhole, isn’t he?”

Of course trying to glaze over that event wasn’t going to fly, Blaire wasn’t even sure why he tried. Backtracking, he tried to have some tact for once in his cold life, “The event with Walker and… it was unfortunate but we firmly believe it was an isolated incident.”

“You don’t know the name of the dead man, do you?”

Blaire froze, eyes still locked on this cold, shiny plastic man demanding an answer. Slowly, Blaire shook his head, admitting, “I… no. I don’t.”

“You seem woefully disconnected from your project, Mr. Blaire. Frank Manera.”

“Well, the incident with Mr. Manera was an unfortun-”

“I highly advise you read pay more attention to both your staff AND your patients then. This is very embarrassing for you. I am speaking of one of the early morphogenic engine patients. The dead guard’s name was Tom Brown. Just so you know going forward.”

Honestly, Blaire was wondering whether he should shut up and let the man talk. But the man seemed to want him to actively acknowledge his failures. Repressing a noise of pain, Blaire spoke, “I… apologize. What did you mean by Manera then?”

He wouldn’t admit it but he’s already forgotten the man’s first name. Something common. Fred?

The mysterious man reminded him though, potentially reading his mind, “Frank Manera was a fairly unique case. We hadn’t had him in custody for terribly long and had gotten some… unique readings off of him. Could yield something.”

“Do… do you guys have an ideas on why that was?”

“Well, as Manera was a damned hippie protestor, he of course was not unfamiliar with drug use. Marijuana, to be precise.”

“What, you want us to get the patients high first?” Blaire quipped, too used to being snippy to not be.

He regretted it instantly at the chilly look the man gave him, “No. Procuring large amounts of drugs would be something that could put us on the radar, Mr. Blaire. We’d like to further that strain with people who have already problems with addiction.”

Blaire suppressed a cold laugh, “Well, I mean. We’re an asylum, we’ve probably got more ex-addicts than you could imagine. I’ll have the scientists compile a list of viable candidates for you.”

“Once again you’ve failed to do your homework. Manera is not the only ex-drug addict you’ve had in your machine. Simply the most recently active one.”

“What… are you insinuating?” Blaire asked, confusedly examining the man’s face for a hint of what he was angling at, “Do you want us to get drugs then? Just telling me to keep it off the books?”

“At 5AM last night, Richard Trager was hospitalized for a heart attack due to a cocaine overdose.”

It was like a cold bucket of water had been dumped over Blaire’s head. Ice seeping down his spine as he flatly replied, “Rick? You want us to use Rick?”

“I understand this is a touchy subject for you, Mr. Blaire. I’ve heard you’re quite close to him. But I’ve also heard the man’s been quite a burden for you. An erratic liability.”

The frozen layer that coated Blaire cracked as hot anger started to melt it, fist gripping his own thigh tightly to keep himself under control even as he threatened to blow up, “I don’t think I like what you’re insinuating. At all.”

He felt himself quietly observed by the man for a moment before he spoke again, same uncomfortably calm tone, “It’s up to you. We’re not looking to force your hand on this one, after all you are still the one in charge of this operation. If you should want ‘Rick’ to become not your problem anymore, all you have to do is simply say the word. In the meantime, we’ll be looking to acquire some other suitable subject.”

At that, the man left without so much of a nod of his head.

Forcing him to stay in place, Jeremy didn’t move again until he was certain the man would be out of earshot. In one sharp motion, he grabbed one of the esoteric desk toys and flung it at the wall with a bark.

The toy shattered, its pieces mixing with the shards of the framed commendation from Murkoff. Congratulating him on his promotion to head of Mount Massive.

Swearing, clawed hands raked through his hair as he slammed back down onto his chair.


	14. Playing Nice

“I don’t need to be in this damn thing,” Rick groaned, trying to get out of the wheelchair only to be shoved back down in it by Jeremy.

Glaring up at him, Jeremy wasn’t concerned, “Doesn’t hurt not to. Just stay down before you injure yourself further. You wanna get strapped into that damn thing?”

Settling in, Rick smiled, “I like it when you’re all protective of me.”

“I like it when you don’t fall out of a fucking wheelchair like an invalid. So stop squirming around or I’ll strap you to the damn thing.”

“Alright, alright, I’m playing nice.”

Leaning, bored, on his own hand he watched Jeremy walk away. Yadda, yadda, hate to see you go but love to watch you leave, old joke, generic joke. He did cheer up when Jeremy brought Rick’s own gaudy car around to pick him up instead of his own plain black one.

Being good, waiting for Jeremy to help him into the car. He felt fine but anything even vaguely resembling public shows of affection from him were deeply appreciated.

Delighted when Jeremy even pecked him on the cheek as he pulled the seat belt across him.

“Aren’t you being lovey dovey?” Rick cooed as Jeremy slid into the driver’s seat, “You trying to get something out of me? I’m not used to free affection.”

Jeremy’s least favorite part about Rick’s car was the fact it was manual. Trying not to kill it just getting into first gear, he replied, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was worried about you. You fucking scared me, asshole.”

“Aw, you’re afraid of losing me,” Rick looked pleased with himself as Jeremy finally got the car going, “I like concerned Jeremy.”

“Well I don’t like concerned Jeremy,” he replied, pulling out into traffic, “Look… I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”

“Ring size eight.”

“Stop.”

“What is it if you’re not going to make an honest woman out of me?” Rick complained, eyebrow cocked.

Oh, Murkoff wants to turn you into their next guinea pig and I’m afraid they’ll take you whether I say so or not. You wanna be the next Walker? If not you have to...

“You’re not going to like it, that’s for sure... “ Jeremy tapped the steering wheel, “Rick… look, you’ve got to stop with the drugs. I don’t know if you want to try and do it yourself or if we should be looking at rehab cent-”

“I don’t want to go to fucking rehab,” Rick snapped, “Why are y-”

“You scared me, Rick!” Jeremy talked over him, “I can’t… you can’t keep putting me through that. You can’t keep going through that. You could have died. Next time if…”

“I’m not gonna die,” Rick coldly dismissed the concern, “I was just… upset.”

“You get upset a lot.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” he crossed his arms with a growl.

For a while they drove in dead silence, just the sound of tires on pavement droning on.

Part of Jeremy wondered if the right thing would be to tell Rick about the offer Murkoff made. Try to make him understand that if he doesn’t stop doing coke there’s a danger beyond just the expected. He could end up one of the twisted freaks, looking like a rotting corpse reanimated.

“Let’s make a deal,” Rick finally spoke.

“I’m listening,” Jeremy cautiously replied.

“Look, I’m not going to fucking rehab but if… if you just let us stop lying to everyone about being together I’ll do it myself. Cold turkey.”

Sighing deeply, looking straight forward, Jeremy knew that was what he was going to ask that.

Rick continued, “We don’t need to make a big deal out of it. Just no more direct denials. Everyone already knows, just stop lying about it. People will be shitty about it but they’re already shitty about it. It’s not going to change anything.”

Tapping his fingers on the wheel, Jeremy answered, “Fine.”

Jeremy didn’t move or flinch as he was grabbed by the collar and pulled into a rough kiss on the cheek with Rick’s warning of, “Thank you. Please don’t let this be a lie again.”

\- - -

There was no question that Rick was being true to his word, Jeremy actually being somewhat impressed by his dedication to it.

Granted, the pieces he’d found had been found through snooping. He’d of course learned where Rick stashed things he didn’t want Jeremy to find. It was mostly drugs but he’d also definitely found Rick’s favorite candy and snacks shoved into weird places. Man wasn’t good at sharing.

But now these hiding places were all those benign things. Maybe a bit more of those things. If Rick weren’t almost worrisomely thin Jeremy would be concerned he was going to eat himself to death instead.

Most heartening was that he’d caught a particularly reluctant Rick flushing said drugs, peeking through a crack in the bathroom door in the dead of night. He looked like a kid having to flush their first pet first, equally devastated. But he’d done it.

Jeremy had managed to get back into bed, blankets over him, playing dead asleep before Rick made it back out into the bedroom. Only ‘waking up’ when Rick nuzzled up against him.

At least Rick had seemed to calm down with a peck on the forehead.

Despite Jeremy’s complete confidence in Rick following through, Rick couldn’t exactly share that sentiment back. This wasn’t the first time Jeremy’d been willing to play nice, seemingly, only to take it back later.

Frankly, the majority of his reservations as he stood in the bathroom looking at the bag of coke were that Jeremy could just be lying again.

He did it though. Good faith, on his part at least.

An opportunity for Jeremy to be truthful about them being together hadn’t arisen. He was allowing Rick to hang off of him like when they’d first become friends but considering that had been normal, nobody questioned it.

But one of those bi-weekly parties was coming up. Those had a much higher chance of it to come up, the atmosphere much more laidback and interpersonal.

Cautiously, Rick let himself hope.

Maybe a little bit too much.

He’d dressed himself up even nicer than usual, even adhering to a much more normal aesthetic. To a degree at least. A standard black suit, white shirt. Unbuttoned practically to his navel with gold chains visible underneath. Matching that watch from Jeremy that was nearly always latched onto his wrist. Black crocodile skin shoes, gaudy gold buckle. Still, all things considered, a relatively classy outfit.

“Am I supposed to wear bright pink to balance our looks back out?” Jeremy had laughed when he walked out.

It was obvious that Rick was trying to play along and be good, Jeremy had no doubts regarding that. From the fairly normal clothing to the way he was fairly quietly and demurely hanging off his arm at the party.

But Jeremy was also aware the affectionate way he was hanging off of him was a bid for someone to ask about them. Or even imply. Just any sort of opening for the man to happily say ‘yes, we’re together.’

The man was going to get his way it seemed. Jeremy could see people whispering, it was just a matter of time until someone started prodding. Murkoff employees are nothing if not inquisitive.

It didn’t happen until they separated though, Rick leaving Jeremy’s side for just long enough to get some drinks around the corner of the room for Smith and his shitty grandsons to swoop in.

This move was clearly calculated by the grandsons, the smarmy but ultimately harmless Smith just happily following them along, unaware of their intentions. Jeremy tried not to cringe too hard as Eric leaned against his high table with a smarmy grin, greeting him neutrally, “Hello, Eric. Zack. Smith.”

Only the last name got a polite nod, noticed by the boys but not by the old man, “Blaire! You seem so preoccupied lately, you going alright kid?”

“I think it’s just havin’ Trager around him all the time,” Zack cautiously nodded towards the man waiting in a short line.

“Bet you two get into all sorts of trouble,” Smith grinned, cuffing Blaire on the arm.

Eric seemed to be in prime ‘fucking asshole’ mode though, pointedly scrutinizing Blaire with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “You two are like… really close right?”

Blaire cautiously regarded him, “Yes, me and Rick are very close.”

That was a bit literal, the man frozen just out of view but within earshot. Leaning in a bit to eavesdrop on their conversation with a drink in each hand. Honorable? No, but it Rick didn’t exactly have a world of trust for Jeremy. And that statement… it was dodging the question. Not quite hiding it but avoiding it.

He was going to get a confirmation though, as Eric pushed harder, “Can I ask you a bit of a personal question, Mr. Blaire?”

Everything about Jeremy’s demeanor said ‘no, you fucking can’t’ but forced to be polite by the conventions of society and Smith looking curiously between them, he replied, “I guess.”

“There’s been, uh, some rumors about you and Mr. Trager…”

Behind the wall, Rick held his breath as Jeremy replied, “Big fish in a little pond, not surprised people talk about us.”

“Well, the rumor in particular I’d like to ask you about… some people are saying you and Mr. Trager are together.”

Rick’s grip on the drinks was nearly strong enough to snap the stems of the martinis clean in half as he waited for Jeremy to answer.

After a second he did. If Rick could see him, he would have seen Jeremy look around for signs of the man before answering, “You know how things get in offices. If there anything people can spin into a juicy story they will.”

“So you’re not-”

“We’re not.”

Lip pulled back into a tight snarl, Rick’s hands were shaking with anger enough for clear drops of alcohol to spill onto the carpet. Of course it was bullshit. Everything Jeremy ever promised him was bullshit.

Violently Rick threw back one martini, then another before beginning to stomp out onto the balcony. Not before snagging an entire bottle of vodka on the way out, popping the top and chugging it as he stepped outside.

If Jeremy wasn’t keeping his promises, why should Rick keep his?

\- - -

After several minutes without Rick’s return, Jeremy excused himself from Smith and his grandsons to try and find him.

Also, great excuse to stop talking to them which was getting increasingly awkward as Smith blindly and confusedly kept misunderstanding what Eric had meant by “together” while his grandson just avoided saying anything along the lines of ‘dating.’ Trying to be sneaky still, even as the confused old man didn’t even think of “two men in a relationship” as an option.

All of them ended up wandering back towards the main area, even as they splintered off. Smith and his grandsons chatting in a corner with some high ranked accountants, Jeremy heading over to the drink table to try and find Rick to no avail.

The sound of glass shattering and a woman screaming heralded Rick’s return from outside.

Like Moses himself, it was far too easy for Rick to part the crowd.

People stepped back, a few crowding around the woman who had just narrowly avoided the bottle Rick had smashed on the ground to check that she was alright.

It was so obviously, completely unmistakable how fucked up Rick was.

He’d only disappeared for about ten or fifteen minutes but Rick looked like he’d be wandering around a forest for a week. Eyes wild, jacket abandoned, shirt full on open, hair down and somehow already tangled…

And he was approaching Jeremy not unlike a rabid animal with a wide, fake smile plastered on his face with his grey eyes glinting with manic anger.

“Jerrrr, there you are,” Rick’s too-loud voice shook with barely restrained rage.

To Jeremy’s horror, Rick got a vice grip around his waist and pulled him close. Too close. Attempting to pull away only made Rick hold him against him harder, even as Jeremy hissed at him under his breath, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Rick jostled him violently, nearly smashing their heads together, “What’re you talking about, sweetheart?”

For a second Jeremy was so shocked by the uncharacteristic use of ‘sweetheart’ before it sunk in what Rick was doing and why. Fully prepared to make this situation go nuclear because somehow, he’d absolutely heard what Jeremy’s said.

Grabbing the hand latched around his waist, Jeremy still trying to do some vague form of damage control as he growled at him, “Rick, think about what you’re doing. Let go and will talk about it at home.”

Damage control was futile at this point, there wasn’t a single pair of eyes not latched onto them and watching their every move. Literally nothing else could be going on that would be more interesting than “Trager is loaded on drugs and all but touching faces with Blaire.” A still confused Smith stood by his grandsons. Eric gleaming with dark mischief at the drama unfolding. Zack looking wildly uncomfortable.

He flinched as Rick sudden dove in even closer, constricted eyes barely an inch or two from his own normal eyes. Rick’s voice considerably more sinister than he’d ever heard it before as he hissed at him, “I know exactly what I’m doing, Jeremy.”

There was a sudden, sharp smile before Rick thrusted his head forward and closed the gap between them. Kissing him roughly on the lips. Unambiguous. Uncaring of the gasps of shock followed by muttering.

Shoving Rick off of him, Jeremy wasn’t exactly concerned with being quiet, “Rick, what the FUCK?!”

“Don’t play stupid, Jer,” Rick still looked wild, his wide smile defeated and victorious at the same time as he was practically yelling, arms out wide, “We’ve been living together for months now!”

The sound of his own heartbeat was drowning out everything else as he looked at the crowd around them. A mixture of shock and/or disgust was plastered on everyone’s faces.

One face stood out to Jeremy though, stiff and uncomfortable. Regarding them blankly.

The nameless man who’d made Jeremy that offer. Black hair not a strand out of place, identical to the first day he’d seen him.

With a growl Jeremy restrained Rick, arm around his waist as he hauled him out. Kicking open the door to the exit, not like his reputation could get more tarnished. The horse was out of the bag, the cat was out of the barn, and there was no way to put things back.

His mind trapped in a tunnel, it wasn’t until he felt Rick finally, successfully deliver a stomping kick to the back of his leg that he finally caught, “You’re fucking hurting me, let go!”

Sufficiently far away from the party by Jeremy’s metrics he dropped Rick like a sack of bricks. Landing hard on the dirty hallway, elbow banging loudly against the ornate woodwork lining the walls. Swearing, Rick managed to roll over and jump to his feet with only a single slam to the wall before glaring coldly at Jeremy.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Do you have any idea what you just did?!” Jeremy yelled at him with a push that nearly knocked Rick back on his ass.

He caught himself though, stumbly and rough but caught nonetheless, allowing him to shove back albeit not as hard, “What’s wrong with YOU?! I fucking heard you Jeremy, I heard what you said. I’ve been playing nice, I hadn’t touched a fucking THING until right fucking no-”

“Well you certainly had it on you!” Jeremy jerked his hand up and down to gesture at him, “It’s not like you can just find coke lying around!”

“BECAUSE I KNEW YOU’D LIE,” Rick shouted as he grabbed a sign off a door and whipped it. Missing its mark as Jeremy ducked and shattering a few feet behind him.

Stepping away from the glass, Jeremy started approaching Rick again with a cold glare, “Maybe I knew you’d lie too.”

Rick started moving backwards too, “Fucking rich coming from the guy who's never kept his word even once. I don’t make a move until you do, Jer. Every time. Don’t try to fucking pin this on me. I’ve been above the table this whole time, you’re the one fucking sneaking around and lying and trying to convince ME I’m the one with the problem.”

“Which one of us is coked out?”

“I am. Which one of us is a liar? Which one of us won’t face the truth?”

Jeremy didn’t answer.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Rick replied, turning around and starting to walk away, only looking over his shoulder, “Don’t follow me.”

“You can keep doing this, Rick! You need to own up to what you just did!” Jeremy tried to ignore Rick’s order only to watch the man grab a tall but small table and throw it at him. Falling across the hallway.

“YOU need to own up to what YOU do too, Jer.”

Power walking off, Jeremy tried to follow him but in the time it took him to step over the fallen table and pick up speed Rick was completely gone.

Again Jeremy was left to return home alone. Apartment empty again. Rick gone again.


	15. The Five Stages Of Grief

If Jeremy had thought Rick being done for a single night was stressful it was nothing compared to him being missing over a weekend, two days of Jeremy completely alone with his thoughts.

Wherever Rick had gone, Jeremy was hearing nothing from him. A sick pit in his stomach grew in his stomach, increasing more and more as the days past. By this point, Jeremy could already feel himself start cycling through the five stages of grief as he prepared for the worst. Which was seeming increasingly likely as the days passed.

First, denial. He played over that night over and over in his mind. Numbness encased him, nothing about that night or the following weekend felt real. Torn violently between whether it was his own fault or Rick’s. Jeremy wasn’t completely oblivious, he was acutely aware that he’d triggered this event but at the same time he couldn’t believe it had happened.

But what could he have done? If he told Eric would use that against them, he’d tell everyone. That was what Rick wanted, he supposed. Not that that mattered anymore. Everyone knew now and Jeremy knew walking into the front doors of Mount Massive on monday was going to be a living nightmare.

He wouldn’t even have Rick by his side. Not only was he going to have to deal with the potentially job threatening fallout of this event but he was going to go through it alone.

Second, anger. Despite wanting Rick here some part of him was just… unable to let go of the rage he felt when he thought about what Rick had done. He outed them but he’d also outed them loudly, publically, drugged up. Not only was Jeremy dating another man but a loud, flamboyant junkie with a flair for dramatics. Doubling down on the shame.

Things could have been fine if Rick had just been willing to play along. For the life of him, Jeremy couldn’t understand his obsession with people knowing. What good would it do them? Hell, one day he’d probably get promoted out of this shithole, he could have easily risen to the top. Maybe then they could be more open about it. But now with things so precarious?

Somewhere in his subconscious Jeremy knew it was unfair to pin this all on Rick but pinning things on Rick is just so easy for him.

As much as he didn’t want it to, monday came with no sign of Rick.

Walking to his office felt like walking to the electric chair. People were barely even hiding that they were talking about him and Rick. Whispers followed his every step. His name, Rick’s name, coldly spat slurs, crude jokes.

Jeremy just stared coldly ahead. Not looking at anyone despite all of them looking at him.

Eye contact would have caused him to attack them.

He wanted to, too. He knew he was a relatively big guy, it wouldn’t be hard to crush the life out of one of the sheering, scrawny scientists. Make a statement. Show them he wasn’t some fucking wilting pansy just because he and Rick…

This trail of thought was pointless. Unless he wanted to go to jail, he couldn’t kill anyone. All of these idiots were, to his displeasure, very safe from his wrath.

Finally reaching his office, he hoped people would at least leave him alone there.

But stage three showed up. Bargaining.

There was no knock on his door when it was pushed open. For a single moment, hope and rage were bedfellows as Jeremy thought ‘who else but Rick would come in without knocking?’

It wasn’t Rick though. Just the nameless man from Murkoff. It was unnerving how the man never seemed a lick different, not an inky hair out of place, not a shred of emotion on his angular face, not a shine in his dead eyes.

“Mr. Blaire, you’ve had quite a rough weekend, haven’t you? Have you seen Mr. Trager again yet?” he said. Mocking, Jeremy supposed, if the man’s monotone voice had been capable of conveying any emotion.

Blaire was forced to reply like a reasonable man when bashing the man’s skull in with the nameplate on his desk felt so much more right, “No… R- Trager’s missing. Has been for the past two days.”

“Not entirely missing,” the man replied, holding up a printed out e-mail, “Called in a personal day for today. If him being alive is a comfort to you.”

Unable to stop the signs of relief and subsequent rage apparent on his face, Jeremy got a bit of emotional whiplash. Rick was alive but that didn’t change the fact he was still fucking pissed at him. Equalizing his emotions, he managed to answer relatively calm and neutral, “I’m… it’s good that he’s alive.”

“Bit of an understatement, if what he said at the party was true. Is it true, Mr. Blaire? Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s… it’s true,” Blaire relented, knowing a lie at this point would only make him look like an idiot, “We’ve been together for about a year. Living together for a few months.”

“That’s quite unfortunate. Murkoff is less than happy about this union, you know. You must be assuming it’s because you’re both men but on the higher level… just a bit more concerned about the ‘raging addict’ part.”

Blaire couldn’t stop the snap back, “Don’t pretend the ‘two men’ part isn’t a factor.”

“I won’t pretend there aren’t certain people uncomfortable with that concept but we have a few higher ups with, well, same sex partners. None of them are quite as flashy as you two. Mr. Trager enjoys a scene, after all.”

Shrinking, Blaire shook his head, “Look, I don’t want to take up your offer.”

“You do,” the man replied, “At least the way things are now.”

“Is that a threat?” Blaire glared, grip on the arm of his chair tightening.

“It’s not a threat, at least not one from me,” the man shook his head, “I don’t like ultimatums but I’m also not the one setting this one.”

Heart frozen in his chest, Blaire asked, “Ultimatum?”

“An unspoken one or at least one they wanted to be unspoken. But I prefer to keep things above the table. Murkoff is planning to terminate your employment should you not decide to take our offer. Mr. Trager’s as well, which I feel is rather obvious.”

Blaire’s head was pounding as he slumped in his chair. He’d just been promoted to Project Head after years of working for Murkoff and now… it could all be gone in a heartbeat.

How would he find another job with that scarlet letter on his chest? “Fired” would burn on resume like wildfire, consuming any possibility of worthwhile employment.

“Do you really think he’s worth it, Mr. Blaire? We’ve been tracking your relationship. Mr. Trager has certainly made your life difficult, at least on paper.”

Of course Murkoff tracked all that. Probably had since the first night. Aware of the increasingly frequent fights, the loud, obnoxious, lover’s spats in public, Rick’s increasing chaos and erratic behavior.

“If it sweetens the pot for you at all, we’re willing to help you claim that Mr. Trager’s commitment is due to his false accusations and fixation on you. As far as everyone will be concerned, that stunt he pulled at the last party will be nothing more than the affections of a crazed madman stalker, thrust upon an innocent victim.”

Blaire only stiffened up more at that, hands gripping his own knees painfully tight.

The man leaned over to gently place a business card in front of Blaire, sliding it towards him.

Bartholomew Black. A grim name for a grim man.

“When Mr. Trager returns all you need to do is send me a message as soon as you’ve made your decision. A call, a text. Either works. I look forward to your answer, Mr. Blaire.”

At that he departed. Door clicking shut behind him, leaving Blaire with that sitting on the table in front of him. Festering in his mind.

\- - -

Three days. The fourth stage, depression.

A cold apathy had fallen over Jeremy’s mind as the days marched forward.

Rick was still calling in personal days, Jeremy had checked to make sure. Distinct signs that Rick was alive. Staying somewhere. Fucked up probably but safe.

Bartholomew’s words were etched deep into the walls of Jeremy’s skull, the only thing he was able to think about. It didn’t help that it seemed like that rumor had trickled down, Jeremy heard the whispers shift. Sharp accusations pinned on Rick, the predator. Leaving Jeremy a tragic figure to them, a victim of Rick’s wicked advances.

But Jeremy had already made his decision, the night before.

Again he heard his door open without a knock.

It wasn’t Bartholomew this time.

Jeremy’d seen Rick in a poor state many times before but that was nothing compared to this.

Rick looked bad, even more ragged than usual after his previous benders. His clothes were disgusting and stained with god knows what. Quite obvious he hadn’t changed or washed his clothes since Friday. His hair was greasy and limp around his shoulders, unusually parted in the middle. Considering how obvious it that Rick’s hair was quickly thinning his normal ponytail made a lot of sense.

Jeremy’s gift to him still glinted on his wrist, golden watch looking out of place on such a dirty, disheveled man.

When Jeremy stood up he wasn’t entirely sure if he was going to hug Rick or strangle him, a coin flip as he lunged towards him. A bit of both, it seemed, as Jeremy tightly hugged Rick around the neck. Causing the man to sputter and choke at the force, a crushed laugh, “Well, uh, somebody missed me.”

“Where the fuck were you?” Jeremy pulled back, arms gripping Rick’s arms unrelentingly.

“Shitty motel,” Rick admitted, “Just kinda… did nothing but watch trash TV and eat fast food. Good thing I was underweight or I’d’ve lost my girlish figure.”

“Rick, we can’t keep doing this. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Yeah… yeah, I know, I just…” Rick said, drifting over to sit on the desk, “This is… this is hard for me, Jer.”

“You’re not exactly making my life easier either, you know.”

“It’s… look, it’s just… fuck, it’s... “

Crossing his arms, Jeremy waited for whatever Rick’s weak justification for his behavior was.

“I love you, Jer.”

Whatever Jeremy had expected Rick to say, it wasn’t that.

Rick wasn’t done though, despite how uncomfortably he squirmed and how quickly his fingers tapped on the desk he continued, “I uh, haven’t ever said that to anyone before. I mean, unless you count my mom when I was like five and didn’t know any better. But you… you really mean a lot to me. More than anyone else I’ve ever been with. It just… I just want to feel like you care as much as I do. That’s why I do such dramatic stuff. I’m sorry. I’m just a fool in love, dreaming about a life with you.”

For a second, Jeremy stood frozen like a deer in headlights. The last thing he’d expected from him was something so… so vulnerable. Used to a man who was no stranger to being affectionate but never in a way that left him open.

Jeremy shook his head slowly, voice weak, “Rick… I don’t know what to say…”

There was a small commotion outside that interrupted them, sounding like something clattering to the ground. Rick started to get up, “What the hell was that?”

Jeremy grabbed his arm though, pulling him back into a kiss that Rick happily melted into. Pulling back, holding Rick’s face gently, Jeremy replied, “Look, Rick, I know you won’t believe me after this but I do love you despite it all.”

Zeroing quickly on that ‘I love you’, Rick smiled before confusion set in, “Really? W-wait, what do you mean won’t believe you? Why wouldn’t I believe y-”

Both men jumped away from the door as it was kicked open, a couple of guards headed by Carson Crestwood, the lead scientist. The guards were armed with batons at their side, Carson with a clipboard and a smug grin.

“What the hell are you doing, buddy?!” Rick put himself between Jeremy and them, finger accusatory jabbing at Carson, “I’m sure whatever you have to tell him is pretty fucking important but you can’t just barge into the executive wing like thi-”

“Mr. Trager, I’m here to oversee your involuntary commitment,” Carson chirped, absolutely ecstatic that he’d been put in charge of this.

Rick narrowed his eyes, “Are you aware you’re a fucking idiot?! What the hell are you talking about?!”

“I believe you’ll find I’m quite sane, actually, considering I’m not the one being taken in.” Carson bubbled, positively giddy as he watched two of the guards slam Rick over the desk. Knocking things off as the man struggled against them.

Rick yelled as he was grabbed, twisting and successfully landing a firm kick to the groin that sent one of the guards collapsing to the ground. Pulling partially to freedom as he stood up against the second guard pulling on his arm, enough to twist himself around enough to frantically look over to Jeremy lodged in the corner, “JER! Help me, get these assholes off of me!!”

But as his eyes latched onto Jeremy’s face… he didn’t look surprised. In fact, he looked downright guilty.

It dawned on him. Jaw dropping as Rick realized the betrayal.

Jeremy approached him, fully prepared to try and make this transition the least painful it could be, “Rick… I’m sorry… they-”

However, what he wasn’t prepared for was for Rick to make this transition the most painful it could be. For Jeremy’s face, at least.

The speed and force at which Rick ripped himself to freedom shocked the guard, leaving him open for a very solid jab to the neck. He wasn’t the one Rick wanted to hurt though, jumping at Jeremy and perfectly smashing his fist right into Jeremy’s jaw with enough force to send him crashing backwards into the filing cabinet was astounding. Dazed, Jeremy was unable to stop the sudden, sharp kick to his chest that followed.

In a heartbeat Rick was on him, fists balled tightly into Jeremy’s suit jacket, eyes even wilder than when he was coked up, “YOU?! You knew about this?!”

Gasping for air, Jeremy was shocked at his inability to pry Rick’s hands off him, “Murkoff said-”

The second half of his sentence was cut off as Rick pulled him forward and slammed him back again, “I don’t give a goddamn FUCK what Murkoff said! I thought you cared about me!! I thought you loved me!!!”

“They were going to-”

Jeremy’s head hit the metal filing cabinets again as Rick slammed a hand over his mouth, leaning in close to hiss his final threat at him, “If it’s the last thing in this world I do, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Before Rick could make good on that threat, the guards had recouped from his attacks and were on him again. Picking him off the ground, Jeremy managed to scramble to his feet in time to watch them start to drag an absolutely raving mad Rick away from him.

Panting, Jeremy reached stage five. Acceptance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally just one chapter away from the end of this long and very self indulgent fic of mine lol. I hope to have the final chapter done tomorrow or the day after so I can call this longfic a wrap. It's my second longest ever, only beat out by an Overwatch Symmrah fic.
> 
> This chapter was initially going to be a fic on its own before I decided on a longer story leading up to it. It was also a much different bend back then, involving more of Trager thinking the whole thing was a prank. But the story leading up to it made it into a much different scene.
> 
> If you haven't been reading the comments, I intend to do a short "good ending" branch off fic after finishing the real ending. Just sort of a one chapter aside, it'll be posted separately a few days after the last chapter if you keep an eye on the tag.
> 
> I'll put that info on the last chapter too.


	16. Doctor, Doctor, Help Me Please

Waylon Park. Waylon fucking Park. That little fucker should never been hired on, Blaire had known it the second he’d met the man.

Too quiet, too reserved. Exactly the type of whiny bleeding heart wimp who would be a snitch. Boo hoo, inhumane treatment! Boo hoo, illegal experimentation!

Blaire’d hoped that throwing the guy into involuntary commitment would have been enough to keep Mount Massive together. If he wanted to complain about their methods maybe it was time for him to experience them himself, you know?

But things are never that clean. As easy as his life had gone after Rick’s commitment, Blaire had always felt like the other boot was going to fall. Eventually.

Murkoff had been right about one thing, using more extreme subjects like addicts made for better results. Rick had only been the first of the more fucked up people they started shoving into the morphogenic engine. Blaire at the helm of acquiring those freaks, eagerly poring over the potential candidates.

Blaire had been particularly proud about their most recent “big bad.” Eddie Gluskin. A very prestigious asylum had been vying for him, something about studying his psychology to help prevent cases like him from developing.

But Murkoff had more grand plans for the murderer.

Of course, this was all a moot point now. Things had gone to shit, abruptly. That big fucking brute was probably stomping around somewhere, holed up and hauling off victims. In the smallest glimmer of humanity possible, Blaire was oddly happy for the female patients who had been moved. Wouldn’t have to worry about Eddie getting his hands on a lady at least.

Little did he know what Eddie was doing on the other side of the asylum.

Blaire knew he’d been lucky to get out of the administrative block with that behemoth Chris stomping around ripping off heads.

Blaire had smiled when he watched Chris rip that smug fuck Carson’s head off though. Screamed like a little girl.

Also, the time it took Chris to rip apart the scientists gave Blaire ample time to escape.

Travelling through the asylum was mostly easier for Blaire, set of master keys in his pocket, but he certainly had more obstacles to avoid. Patients were less than happy to see one of the higher ups wandering around.

Were he not a fool, he’d simply leave. But some part of his mind was desperately clinging to the idea of destroying as much evidence as possible before getting out.

Also finding and killing Waylon Park. It’d be his only chance to do it and get away with it scott free. No one could ever assume it was him, not with this many stab-happy psychos wandering around.

Were he in his right mind, he’d see that it was a futile endeavor. But nobody in Mount Massive was, not anymore.

So he kept wandering those hallways and wards, ducking and avoid every patient he could.

Until he couldn’t.

Blaire didn’t even hear his assailant creep up behind him, just as aware of the layout of Mount Massive as him. Whoever it was he was strong, a punch to the back of the head dazing Blaire long enough for the other man to force a disgusting, filthy rag over his mouth before jerking him backwards.

Expecting to hit the ground, Blaire instead slamming into one of the many wheelchairs littering this particular hallway. Realizing the world was going dark, Blaire tried to get up but failed. Succumbing to whatever had been on that rag.

\- - -

Blaire had no idea how long he was out, all he knew was when he slowly blinked his eyes open that was he secured very tightly to a bed. Shirt missing, which was fairly alarming.

Only his head was unsecured allowing him to look around. He was definitely in the male ward and he definitely wasn’t alone, he could see several other men in the same situation. Although he couldn’t be entirely sure that they were still alive.

There was one definitely alive man moving around though, a much more intimidating figure than the other captives.

Tall and emaciated, the man’s back was to Blaire. To his horror, it seemed like the man was investigating rusty old medical tools. Holding up a dull knife to examine it. Going off the medical mask, seems this man fancies himself a doctor. Undercut severely by the fact he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Or pants. Or underwear. Most doctors don’t go into surgery with their whole ass out.

Blaire caught a glimpse of exposed teeth peeking out from the rotted face as the man turned to face him. Leering at him through glasses, one side shattered the other with some odd examining tool over it.

Being approached by this armed madman was easily the scariest thing Blaire had ever encountered in his life.

And yet, still, his asshole instinct kicked in and prompted him to yell at the man, “Stay the FUCK away from me!”

Tapping the dull end of the knife on Blaire’s chest, he answered with one word, “No.”

It was easily the most normal voice Blaire had heard out of any of these abominations. Still eerily human and somehow… very familiar. Returning to the table a few feet away to root around the implements on the small rolling table.

Blaire’s mind wasn’t in any state to think about that voice any deeper though, as his response to fear seemed to be immediately pick the most one sided fight in the universe, “Do you even know who I am?!”

“Yes,” another one word answer, back still to him.

“Look,” Blaire went to bargaining, “If you know who I am you also know I can help you, right? Let me go and I’ll get you out of here. Say you had no part in it, you’ll be a free man. Hunt and kill whoever you want on the outside.”

“No,” the man shook his head, greyed remains of what must have been once long hair trembling, “I want you. Specifically.”

God the voice was still so familiar but in his panicked state Blaire wasn’t exactly able to focus on why, yelling, “What?! What did I ever do to you?!”

With terror Blaire watched the man turn around with a much more terrifying weapon in his hand. Blaire had no idea why a colossal pair of shears was something that existed inside the walls of Mount Massive but fuck he wished they didn’t. Rusted over, the feeling of them trailing on his bare chest sent him into a panic.

But he froze as he heard the false doctor’s voice come out a mockery of his own words, said quite a while ago, “Look, Rick, I know you won’t believe me after this but I do love you despite it all.”

Blaire’s heart frantically beat ice cold blood through his veins, mouth dry as he gasped out, “Jesus christ…”

“Close, Jer, real close,” the man reached up and tugged down the mask.

Pushing the glasses up very familiarly above his forehead, Jeremy got his first look at Rick since that night he was hauled away.

If Rick’d looked rough that night, he looked like absolute literal hell now. The effects of the morphogenic had wrecked him, his skin warped like tree bark. His face was particularly destroyed, a large patch of missing lip exposing his teeth and gums.

It had never been a secret that Rick’s hair was thinning, accelerated by the engine. Bald area having large scars running up it.

He’d always had a coke nail but all of them were similarly long now, split and gnarled.

Only his solitary good eye looked normal, the last shred of Rick that looked human, looked like himself. The other eye was a gaping bloody pit.

“Rick… what’d they do to you…” Jeremy stumbled out dumbly.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Rick gripped Jeremy’s jaw painfully tight, “Ya didn’t even keep up with the experiments on me, Jer? Really doubling down on that ‘won’t believe me’ factor, aren’t you?”

“Murkoff didn’t leave me a choi-”

Jeremy’s sentence was cut off by a harsh blow to the cheek and a yell of pain.

“Hate excuses, Jer. You should have figured that out by now.”

Sliding off the bed he examined his weapon as Jeremy tried to switch gears, appeal to him personally, “You can’t kill me, Rick. Look… things ended badly but I do lo-”

Jabbing into his neck, the scissors stopped him from finishing that sentence as Rick hissed at him, “Don’t you fucking dare say that word to me. If you ‘loved’ me you wouldn’t have done what you did. We could have just left, Jer. That was always an option. We could be somewhere warm and sunny, working somewhere better, together, we could have gotten married, retired one day… but you? You chose this.”

Removing the scissors from pressing against Jeremy’s skin, Rick let him talk. Babble really, panic starting to set in, “Don’t do this, Rick. We can still-”

“You don’t want me now, don’t pretend you do,” Rick experimentally snipped the massive scissors in the air, “Don’t worry though, Jer. We’ll have plenty of quality time to spend together while I work. Reminisce, regret your life choices, think about what you did…”

“What are… what are you going to do to me?” he asked, cautiously.

“If there’s no surprises in a romance, it’ll fizzle out,” Rick laughed, “But I’ll tell you about the honeymoon, at least. You remember how I always loved those old medical journals?”

Jeremy nodded shakily, not wanting to remember looking over his shoulder back him. People flayed open, organs laid out like a holiday feast, body parts warped by disease.

“Do you remember me ever mentioning Dr. Robert Liston? Fascinating figure. Back before they were able to knock people out for surgery, speed was the name of the game. And Dr. Liston? He was famous for that. One little incident always stood out though…”

It was obvious Rick was asking for Jeremy to ask what it was, but he didn’t. Just laid there and stared at him, wide eyed.

A sharp ‘tch’ cut the air, Rick having to continue without the interactive dramatics he desired, “Dr. Liston is the only surgeon known to have done an operation with a 300% mortality rate. The patient, his assistant, someone in the crowd watching. But still his speed is to be admired…”

The look Jeremy was giving him was blank though, fear without thought.

“You may be thinking, what does this have to do with me? Well, I’ve been practicing something special for you. Speed, it’s all about speed. I’ve been trying to get fast enough at cutting out someone’s heart that I can show it to them while they’re still alive! I think I’ve nailed it too.”

Blaire flinched at the jagged nail tracing where the incision would go, “Rick, don’t, let’s just- let’s just talk this out. We- we can both get out of here I’ve got the key, I can still get you out of here, I’ll say you saved me, get you out-”

“It’s too late for all that, Jer,” Rick mocked, leaning over to plant a toothy kiss on Jeremy’s cheek, “Let’s just enjoy the now, shall we? Well, you probably won’t. But I will.”

Feeling Rick’s gnarled hand in his own, uncurling his fingers his intent wasn’t obvious until Jeremy felt the rusted metal of the scissors thread their way in. Just enough time for a pleading, ‘No, wait!’ before pain blinded him.

The last the world heard of Jeremy Blaire were his screams echoing through the halls of Mount Massive, to a chorus of screaming madmen and the cackles of a cruelly delighted Richard Trager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last we're at the very end! This fic was so much longer than expected but in a good way. Hopefully you all enjoyed this journey as much as I did. My weird little pet project sprung from a single, eays to 
> 
> I do intend to do a short, one chapter alternate-good-ending which'll be posted separately. I intend to move right into that one so expect it shortly.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want, check out my tumblr, [catisacat](http://www.catisacat.tumblr.com/), i also like to draw \o/


End file.
